Corrupted
by DangoLovesYou
Summary: The wall between No. 6 and West Block has fallen, but all is not peaceful. Nezumi leaves Shion to live in the new, chaotic world, with all the risings and fallings of the civilization. When Nezumi comes back expecting the friend he knows and loves, who will he find? Now fabulously Beta'd and illustrated by Jinnxe ForeverKuran Kinomoto. *TEMPORARY HIATUS, BECUASE LIFE IS HARD*
1. The Fall of the Wall

"Nezumi!" Shion called. Without a word, Nezumi turned back and kissed Shion. It was soft and sweet and sad, and Shion wished he could lose himself in it, to be there forever. But Nezumi had been right when he had said there was a disinction between any kiss and a goodbye kiss, and this was most definitely a good-bye kiss. Nezumi pulled away and looked Shion in his red, shining eyes, hands lingering on his friend's, and made a promise to return. It had more conviction than he could have possibly spoken, and just barely enough for Shion to trust him. As Shion desperately got the last bits of reassurance he could from the sight of Nezumi, the other man turned away and started on a journey.

The sky above the crumbling society turned its muted peach, and Shion stood still, one last sentence hanging on his lips. "I'll be waiting." Yes, now Nezumi had to come back. He couldn't leave Shion waiting.

For a while, Shion sat on the fallen wall that used to divide No. 6 and West Block. Looking out over his two homes, old and new, he allowed his thoughts to meander as they pleased. Where was he supposed to go? His old home in his mother's bakery? The tatters of West Block? He had matured a lot over the past few months, and the thought of returning to his mother seemed just a little bit childish. He had to take care of himself for now. However, he felt a wave of nausea pass over him when he thought of living in the apartment he had shared with Nezumi. It would be empty, and he would be alone, and he knew he wouldn't make it until Nezumi's return. Shion could see it now; he would wake up and in the first few seconds of the new morning, he would forget Nezumi was gone. He would look for him and terror would cloud his thoughts until he remembered. And his heart would break. He couldn't stand to have his heart broken for that many... days? Weeks? Shion couldn't bare to imagine a scale larger than that.

So what did that leave? Inukashi's? No, he couldn't possibly. Not forever. He would have to get an apartment somewhere, at least eventually. And a job, too, or it would just be a collection of walls. He needed furniture, appliances, food...

Shion had little money, and no possessions other than the clothes on his back. And he had to do something with everything that used to be in Nezumi and his apartment. Surely people would want to start construction in West Block, or at least clear away the scars of the past as quickly as they could.

Could he have those things? The books, the piano, the little furniture, the few pots and pans and memories? Definitely, he at least had to go back for those memories. Setting aside his worries for the long-term, Shion rose from his perch overlooking the two opposing landscapes and set off in search of his small former residence.

Not surprisingly, dust and dirt coated just about everything in West Block, enough to make Shion slip a couple of times on his way up the steeper paths. When he finally got to the old wooden door, he was practically panting. With a smile, he thought back to how Nezumi could do just about anything physical with little more than some will to get his adrenaline moving. It was something Shion always admired about him, on a rather impressive list of traits and habits no one but Shion would notice. It was going to be a long few... a long while, until Nezumi got back.

The room was more than a little dark when Shion fought off the urge to call "I'm home!" upon entering. He lit a few candles around the room, not wanting to touch the ever-questionable electricity after the destructive events of the day. The warm, golden light cast long shadows about the room and made Shion's heart swell with warm, familiar thoughts and memories. He loved it there. He could still picture the other boy lying on the bed, back to Shion, talking and smirking and making the cramped room a lot more than a room.

The last few rays of sunlight dripped from the edges of the sky outside the window, dragging Shion back into this moment. With a small sigh, he looked for some things to preserve as keepsakes. If he didn't have something to remember Nezumi by, something familiar to hold and savor, he would have to return to West Block to restore his hope every day, and one could only accumulate hope from such a place for so long before it started feeling empty without Nezumi actually there.

But what to take...

A couple books, definitely. Shion grabbed his friend's favorites, Shakespeares and classics and poems. Then came the one or two that Shion could always picture Nezumi performing, great tales of love and loss and redemption. Happily ending books with good descriptions and laughs and cries waiting within the covers. He grabbed 8 in all.

_What else... what makes this place this place? The smell. _Yes, there definitely had always been a wonderful, homey smell to the place, and to Nezumi himself, thick and earthy, with the slightest traces of sweetness. What was something that would always smell like that? With an excited smile, Shion picked the pillow off of Nezumi's bed and held it between the stack of books in his hands and his chin. Contented, the boy blew out each of his candles and stepped out into the thick, chilling air of the early night.

It was now too late to return to what had been No. 6, so Shion decided that, just for tonight, he would stay somewhere temporary. It was going to take him a few days to get situated, it was just bound to. So, with a couple of coins and an expectant smile, Shion was escorted into Inukashi's motel by one of the dogs.

"Sorry, no vacancy," she said flatly, and turned to walk away.

"Wait, what?"

"No vacancy. The streets are flooded with the homeless, kid. I haven't had this kind of business in years! And cause the dogs are cleaner than the drinking water around here, I've raised my prices 20%. I'm gonna be rich."

"There where am I supposed to sleep?" Shion asked, not knowing what else to say. Even after the goddess that possessed Safu saved his life earlier that day, he needed a good deal of rest.

"Not my problem." Shion supposed Inukashi was pretty average for a resident of West Block, and a wave of appreciation for Nezumi washed over him. Although he had a mouth and a bit of a temper, he always took good care of Shion, saving his life and giving him a place to sleep and a friend, maybe a more-than-friend, to rely on. Shion had even come from the hated No. 6, and he was still treated with respect and care, even if Nezumi wouldn't have wanted him to admit it.

He stood there in the warmth of Inukashi's hotel wistfully dazed for a minute or so before setting out.

Right, a place to sleep. Looking around, Shion noticed that a lot of places were completely abandoned. He could just crash in one of them, right? Nezumi had to have spent lots of night alone on the streets, so so could Shion.

Allowing his feet to wander aimlessly, Shion came upon the theatre. Yeah, that could work. There was plenty of room. And maybe Shion could even learn a bit more about one of the sides of Nezumi he still knew nothing about.

Eve's dressing room wasn't terribly lavish, but Shion imagined it was a paradise by West Block standards. It had a couch nearly identical to the one in their old apartment, a chair in front of a make up table, and a wire rack of costumes.

Beautiful dresses were neatly folded above a couple pairs of women's shoes. There were four costumes in all; a flowing grey gown Shion had seen Eve in once before, a faded peach gown with golden accents, a deep green dress with beige lacing, and... _What the..._  
There, beneath the small pile of feminine fabrics, sat a plaid pajama shirt. It looked untouched but well cared for, like an expensive figurine in a glass case. It was the same one Nezumi had borrowed from Shion four years and a handful of months before.

He had kept it, preserved it.

Just as he had a newspaper clipping that sat in between the mirror and its silver border on his make up table. It was practically a mugshot of Shion, accompanied by a harsh depiction of his having supposedly killed a coworker. The cheap paper was worn and faded, and probably wasn't exactly handled with care by even the creator, as it was made in West Block and covered with ink blotches. A rumor newspaper, by the looks of it, but Nezumi had kept it, and he had a feeling it wasn't for his fascination in lying news reporters.

Shion couldn't help but smile. Placing the pillow he had recovered on the slight couch, he laid down and fell into a gentle, Nezumi-scented sleep, unaware of the difficult morning that awaited him.

* * *

Yeah... Well, there you have it. The first chapter to my first multi-chapter fanfic. Sorry it sucks and is uncaptivating and anti-climactic.

So, is this the uncomfortable part where I ask you to review? Nope. If you want to, you will. If you don't, my asking isn't going to change your mind. Look forward to part 2.

Also, I was just rereading this on my phone as in normal viewing mode, and noticed a couple words missing. Now I'm editing the document on my laptop, and the words are present. I don't know how to fix that, so sorry about incurable typos.


	2. When All has been Lost

A/N- K, so this is pretty disturbing. Like, bloody and stuff. You've been warned.

I don't remember if Karan and Rico were in the anime, but in the manga, they were two young kids that Shion would read to occasionally.

Sorry once again for incurable typos, things look different from one screen to the next.

Disclaimers:

Let me ask you; do you think I own No. 6? I mean, honestly.

If you didn't get that No. 6 is shounen-ai by the point in the story when this takes place, you shouldn't be on the internet. I mean, they danced and kissed and all that good stuff. So, if you've come this far and still claim to "don't like," then to you I say, "do read anyway, ya knucklehead."

* * *

When Shion woke up the following morning, he was most definitely not in Eve's dressing room. No, this was a dark alley, probably somewhere in West Block. His items were around him, the plaid shirt, the books, the pillow, but all were dirty and looked as though they had been tossed with minimal regard. He wasn't in much better shape, sprawled across the hard ground.

He got up quickly, anxious as to how he got there and what had happened to Eve's dressing room. The back door to the theatre was only a few feet away. Throwing the books and pillow into the shirt and tying it around his neck, Shion pushed the door open, having to break it out of its warped frame.

Eve's room was in shambles, with the furniture tipped and everything of value gone. Even the mirror had been ripped from the counter. The place was picked clean. Shion's lips contorted into an even further confused frown as he fought his way back into the early morning street.

The streets of West Block had never been pleasant, but this was hell. Walls and streets were painted with blood and the air reeked of gore. And everywhere, thrown about like dolls, were corpses. There were wailing children and mothers and fathers and loves, standing over bloody bodies, cursing No. 6 and the wall and its fall and existence.

Shion jerked his head about frantically, trying to find some clue as to how things had ended up this way, why there were so many dead in the streets and what exactly was going on. He found that many buildings were torn up just like the theatre, with anything remotely usable or valuable taken or destroyed. Shop keepers or anyone else in the way were unconscious or dead on the pavement.

That's when it hit Shion. He had read about this once in a history textbook._ It's called looting_, his mind pieced together as it fought against fogging in panic, Often times, when anarchy arose in history, civilians would wreak havoc on what was left of towns and cities, stealing and killing and getting away with it because there was no one to stop them. Whoever had done the looting was long gone, leaving this terror in their wake.

Shion began to tremble. _This wasn't supposed to happen_, he thought but pushed to words out of his mind. He had to stay focused. If he thought like that, he would surely break down and throw up in disgust or fear or both. He had to stay calm, or he could take a wrong step, piss off the wrong person, and end up like that young woman over there, that kind looking man over there, or...

"Karan!" Shion cried, running to a small figure several yards away. It was the young girl he had fed and read to. She was such a kind person, always looking after her brother and being patient and giving, even when all she could do was apologize for having nothing to give. A wave of pain washed over Shion as he thought about her gentle smile and polite speech. She had wanted to be a teacher, to educate people and help them. She couldn't even go to school herself, but she had heard about them from Shion often, and said she was going to found one if she had to. Now, she was completely still on the hard ground, neck bent at an impossible angle, dreams and red dripping from her lips and pooling in her shadow.

"Karan," Shion repeated, this time quietly and in disbelief. The name shot a fear into his mind like lightning. What of No. 6? What of his old home and his past and his mother?

As it turned out, it had suffered a similar fate. Most every window was broken, shops were empty of their products, furnishings carelessly tossed about. Innocent bystanders with lives and hopes and love were now entangled by their own limbs, grotesquely reminding Shion of puppets thrown around by a toddler. Not even garbage would have been treated in such a way in the old No. 6. Shion couldn't help but shiver at the shock and horror of it all.

Taking down the wall was supposed to benefit both parties. That's why Shion and Nezumi had done it. It was supposed to produce such a better reality in both cities, not this soul-crushing image before him. Everything, everything anyone had ever had was now ruined. Even citizens of West Block had shops and a few possessions and a little money, and most importantly, they had each other. Now, they truly had nothing, just like the former No. 6 citizens, and just like Shion.

The glass of the front window of his mother's shop was all over the sidewalk, and he could see the door hanging on only one hinge. Shion ran to the old bakery, throwing the door out of his way to reveal empty shelves, a broken register, and a trail of bloody footprints. "No," he said breathlessly, his heart pounding. Shion already knew what had happened before he took the stairs in fours and checked every room.

Sure enough, he found his mother's still body on the ground in her room. He collapsed next to it, grabbing her cold hand and calling her name helplessly. "Mom, Mom! Please, please don't die! No! I'm home now, Mom! You can't die now! Please, please!" Hot tears blurred Shion's vision and hit his mother's pale cheeks.

"This can't be... Things are supposed to be better now! This was supposed to fix No. 6 and West Block! Taking down the wall, it was supposed to fix things! I didn't mean for this to happen! I'm sorry, Mom! I'm so sorry!" Shion whispered, his voice cracking and rough. He hung his head, allowing his white hair to fall over his eyes and hinder his vision further.

It just couldn't be. How could he be so ignorant? How could he not expect this? He messed with things more powerful than him, the balance of two civilizations. How could he just expect the clouds to clear and everything to be perfect? How could he be so stupid and blind and ignorant? He truly was from No. 6, the holy city that was no more.

A time came when Shion could no longer bear to hold his mother's lifeless hand, to see her bloodied features and cracked skull. He sat against the wall several feet away and buried his face in his knees. "How could you, Nezumi?" He found himself whispering. "You had to know. You had to know that this was a stupid idea. You had to know that things wouldn't work out. How could you let me do this?" And shouting, "How could you let me do this?! How could you lie to me like this? You made me think you cared about me! And you left! You left me with nothing! You're gone, Safu's gone, Mom's gone, every home I've ever known is destroyed, everything's gone! You left me with nothing! How could you?" Numbly, Shion pulled the sack he had fashioned off of his shoulders. With all the strength he could muster from his shaky arms, he threw it across the empty room. He didn't want it any more. He didn't want anything to remind him of Nezumi, or his mother, or his life, or anything.

Shion ran. He slammed his worn shoes across the bloody pavement as quickly as his adrenaline-filled legs could carry him, needing to get away. He needed to escape this world he had landed himself in, this twisted wonderland of suffering and losing everything he had ever loved. _Coward, _a voice in his head taunted. _When things get difficult, you run away. Nezumi wouldn't approve at all. _

_Good. I don't care what he thinks. I don't care about the bastard. He had to know this was going to happen, but he took off and left me here to rot._ But Shion couldn't bring himself to believe those words spoken by another corner of his consciousness as they echoed in his distressed brain. Shion continued to run, yet unable to find a single sight free of suffering. His mind throbbed as it raced at an equal speed. He still loved Nezumi. Maybe Nezumi hadn't known this hellish anarchy would ensue? Or maybe it was one final time of pain before an incredible time of peace? Shion couldn't be sure, and he couldn't much care. He just knew that he couldn't quite blame or hate Nezumi, no matter how much he wanted to.

And he wanted to very, very much. What Nezumi had dreamed of for so long, it caused this torture, and he wasn't even there to witness it. He wasn't there to give Shion hope, to be with him in this time of uncertainty and danger. How dare he do this?

But then, this was Nezumi. He would never hurt Shion intentionally. Not with such malice. He would come back soon, he had to. And he would apologize and never leave again. This lawless area would find order, and all would be at peace. This was just a bump in the road, Shion was almost sure. Or was that the false hope talking? And could he just sit around and wait for everything to come together? He could end up one of these lifeless bodies before anything was resolved.

Shion ran for miles, sweating and aching and dying to find some refuge where he could forget where he was, if only for a second. He needed to scrape together some composure so he could look at the situation logically, find what to do next to make certain he would survive. But it was hard to think straight when panic mingled with the two opposing sides screaming in his skull.

The war of tangling emotions raged on in Shion's mind; he continued to move. He got lost in the day, unsure of whether the ground was standing on was formerly of No. 6 or West Block, slowly realizing he wouldn't find a place untouched by devastation. Finally- it appeared to be about noon by the position of the sun- his legs gave out from under him, crashing him down into a sitting position against a brick wall, burying his head in his knees. He bit his lip, trying to bring order to his thoughts. _One thought at a time, calmly._

_My old life is gone.  
_

_I need to start a new one.  
_

_I should find some shelter.  
_

_If I find someplace decent, I should help others.  
_

_Yes, others need to restart their lives, too.  
_

_I need to get a job.  
_

_I need to find someone doing well enough to employ me.  
_

_I shou-  
_

"Shion?" A small, hesitant voice brought Shion out of his finally constructive thought process. He was almost sure he imagined it, until something tugged lightly at his jacket sleeve.

There, barely recognizable through the layer of dirt and hardship that covered him, was Rico. His clothes were torn, and almost every visible part of him had blood, although whether it was his own or someone else's, Shion couldn't be sure. Thin, swerving paths of pale cheeks ran through the grime on his face, illustrating he had spent some time sobbing, an act which he was barely refraining from now. He was a strong kid, but this situation had Shion losing his cool. He couldn't even begin to imagine how hard it must have been on someone so young.

Rico spoke as Shion stared at him. "Shion, have you seen my mother or my sister?"

Rico's sister. Karan. Another wave of nausea fell upon Shion's stomach as he thought about how to deal with this. He decided quickly to try to find Rico's mother. He couldn't just leave the helpless kid alone, and it would give him something to focus on. Then, maybe she could break the news of his sister's death to Rico. "That's a bit complicated..." Shion pulled himself up and sat on his knees. "When and where did you last see them?"

"Uh, Karan was out last night, getting some water, when the ground starting shaking. Then, when the big wall fell and everyone was running around, my mom got pulled away from me."

Great, that narrowed it down. Now, Shion could be positive that she was anywhere on earth, and either dead or alive. Shion hid the sarcasm he had picked up from Nezumi behind a smile he intended to give Rico a little hope. Standing up and taking the little boy's hand, Shion decided they had to start somewhere and set off in a random direction.

Shion did his best to distract Rico with jokes and riddles and stories, but he knew the boy was seeing everything. The bodies, the damage, the pain... Still, Shion kept a good, steady pace so he couldn't stare anywhere too long, and made sure to avoid the street where he had found Karan.

They passed a couple of areas that looked pretty familiar to Shion, and he realized where he was when a dog came up and greeted him. He didn't hesitate to pet one of Inukashi's friendly animals as he looked around to find her standing in front of the remains of her hotel. He waved to her and she called him over, with the dog trotting right by his side.

"Shion," she said simply, probably at a loss for words. Shion felt Rico take a step behind his leg.

"It's okay, Rico. This is my friend, Inukashi, and her nice dogs. They won't hurt you any more than I will."

Inukashi smirked down at the little boy unsettlingly, but the fuzzy black lab licking his face seemed to make Rico relax a bit.

"How's your business?" Shion whispered to his friend, whose smirk fell into a grim line. She just walked into her old building, motioning for Shion and company to follow. As he walked, he told Rico beside him, "I have to talk to Inukashi for a few minutes. I'll check if she's seen your family, alright? You can play with her dogs." Rico seemed as satisfied as a boy in his situation could be as he wandered around the large room, leaving Shion to sit on the floor beside Inukashi. "What happened to no vacancy?" He asked whispered to her without thinking.

"Shut up. You want to know how my business is going? I'm supposed to be rich, but some giant thugs took everything. Furniture, dogs, reputation, money. I've got two silver coins and eight dogs," She snarled quietly, watching three of them tussle with their newest playmate. Shion offered his condolences, but she ignored him. "Who's your little friend?"

"Rico? I used to read to him. His sister's dead and we're looking for his mother now. Have you seen anyone looking for a kid?"

"Plenty. Too many to point you in any direction." The two sat there quietly for a few minutes, not knowing quite what to say.

"Inukashi?"

"Hm?"

"I'm not from here. I don't know what to do when things go sour. What am I supposed to do now?" Shion asked honestly. He still couldn't resist showing his vulnerability if it could mean he could come out okay.

"That's a good question. Especially since everyone around here hates you for destroying their lives and wants very much to have the honor of killing you. Hell, even I hate you a little. I'd say, once you return your kid, make a knife and hope for the best."

As evening fell, Shion had found little success in searching for Rico's mother. The air was growing colder, and his stomach was having a volume contest with the little boy's. Shion almost thought he was hallucinating when tall figures in dark uniforms flooded the streets, and a giant tank looking mechanism parked several blocks away. It had to be at least as wide as the streets, although it appeared to have enough power that it could have easily be driving completely over buildings.

Screams cut through the West Block air as the unfamiliar men took people by their shoulders and held them in place, ordering them to surrender. Shion immediately tried to pick up Rico and hold him to his chest, but the soldiers were stronger, and Rico was stolen from Shion.

"Shion!" he cried through the crowd of panic, tears already springing from his small eyes. He kicked and screamed and reached his hands out for his friend.

But as hard as he fought, Shion couldn't get past the two armed men now gripping him. He struggled and shouted Rico's name until the men pulled out their impressive looking weapons and held them to his head.

"You can't take him, he's just a little boy! Let him go! Rico!" Shion continued to say, even though he now dared not move his arms or legs an inch.

"Hush!"

A moment later, the tank announced, in a cold, metallic voice, "Citizens of West Block and No. 6. This area is now under the control of No. 2. You are under the governing power of No. 2's honorable leader, Igarashi Kiseki. You will obey his word as law. Do not try to resist. Allow yourself and your family to be brought to a better life by the armed escort soldiers. This has been a message from Igarashi Kiseki, this honorable leader of No. 2. Repeat, Citizens of West Block and No. 6..."


	3. Crate of Potatoes

The machine repeated the message several times, only stopping after all the struggling citizens had stopped screaming long enough to get the full message at least once. That was more than enough time for panic to flood through Shion, and his mind was just beginning to swing back into the familiar realm of logical reason. He had to save Rico. He had to see if he could get Rico with his mother. He had to keep the minions of this Igarashi Kiseki from blowing his head off immediately. And, eventually, he would have to find a way to free at least himself. So where to start...

Shion wasn't given much of an option when his captors quite literally threw him into the back of one of many trucks. They were filled to the brim with people, and had no seating, no ceiling, and no real reason to believe they were anything more than crates of potatoes. Still, Shion counted his blessings and regained a small bit of hope when Rico was thrown into his arms.

The boy was sobbing now, or at least he would have been if he could. It appeared he was trying desperately to choke down and stifle his sobs, probably because of the soldiers' intimidation. Shion's heart only went out to the miserable boy more, and he found himself stroking his small back in an attempt to sooth the nerves.

He shushed him gently and whispered, "You're okay. I'll protect you, okay? You can trust me. I'll protect you."

Rico turned his head up to look Shion in the eye. "Where are we going? Why are they taking us away? Where's my mommy? Where's Karan? I wanna go home! I wanna go home, Shion, Iwannagohome!"

"I don't know where we're going, Rico, but we should be alright," Shion murmured, but now he was half trying to convince himself. As the child in his arms sobbed, he couldn't help but let his emotions run wild again, doubt slipping into every thought.

The trucks started moving without announcement, nearly jerking Shion to the splintering wood floor in the process. It quickly picked up speed, and Shion thought he could hear other vehicles moving with them.

With a sigh escaping Shion's mouth, the image of Nezumi flashed into Shion's mind. More specifically, Shion lost himself for a moment in the memory of his friend gracing a similarly offensive transport full of people with his smooth voice. What Shion wouldn't have given to have him here, now, to help calm down the terror brought about by their current circumstances.

Then again, the image of Nezumi still wasn't an entirely welcome one. Things were getting way out of hand due to both of their actions, and Nezumi wasn't suffering like Shion was. Shion was anything but jaded, but the thought of his friend off somewhere without any regard for the consequences of the wall's fall left a bitter taste in his mouth. As Shion was thrown about in the fading sunlight, he gained a grudge against Nezumi; yet, in the back of his consciousness, a new admiration grew. Nezumi truly had to be very strong and very brave to take terror with a straight face and a calm resolve.

Undoubtably, the orphaned, tortured boy had to go through situations like the one Shion was in. And he was probably much younger and in more immediately danger, right? Shion didn't know any specific examples, because Nezumi had always kept himself shrouded in mystery, but he had to have had it ridiculously hard. He had to, right? Shion's efforts to calm himself didn't work as well as he would have liked. He imagined that, given the opportunity, Nezumi would have mocked him for being such an emotional wreck, and then for being unable to get the thought of Nezumi out of his mind, as he was trying and failing to do now.

As conflict continued to layer in Shion's mind, day turned into night, and Rico fell asleep in his arms. The roars of an upset, bewildered crowd had calmed down long ago by the time Shion finally managed to clear his brain. Shifting from panicking, blubbering idiot, to strict robot, to lovesick puppy certainly wasn't helping things, so he settled on healthy worry as to where he was going and what awaited him.

He couldn't see past the wooden walls of this truck, but Shion imagined it wouldn't have done much good. To get from one region to another was not a fast task by any stretch. It was reasonable to assume that outside was nothing but the barren earth, still desolate from the recent war. Eventually, when he did get to No. 2 or wherever this Igarashi character wanted him, Shion wasn't sure he'd want to see anything.

No. 2 had gotten suspicious when Shion was around five years old. No communication had existed between No. 2 and any other area since. There had, of course, been times when a small number of No. 6 reporters were sent there to investigate, but they were few and far between, and any information they brought back was absorbed by No. 6 and never shared with the citizens. The people had their ideas, whispered theories and suggestions, and it was common for scary stories told at sleepovers to be set in No. 2. He and Safu had even fantasized about it when they were younger. Now, it seemed, those tales were more true than Shion would have figured.

A dictator. Shion had studied all sorts of dictators in his years, from Juan Peron to Adolf Hitler, but had never known the details of how they fell from power, or how the people were supposed to rebel, not exactly. Shion realized he was getting a bit ahead of himself, but after breaking the wall the separated No. 6 and West Block, he thought he might be able to help end another chapter of tragedy on Earth. Although, the falling of the wall hadn't exactly resolved with happily ever after.

The night was long and filled with useless, relatively circular thoughts, and Shion only got a few winks sleep before the sunlight was casting straight down into the truck and making rest nearly impossible. Around noon, the trucks stopped. At first, Shion thought he was dreaming, or maybe he had gone insane. After a brief period of unrest in the vehicle, however, the back wall of the human carrier was opened. Cardboard boxes were thrown in, and the wall was closed within a second or so.

The box was filled with food packets, it seemed, as suddenly small green bags of nuts were everywhere and people were shouting and fighting over them. Another must have held water bottles. Anxious and starving, Shion put Rico on his shoulders and crouched down, picking up a fallen bag off the floor where it was being trampled by the hustling crowd of people. The contents were had been broken into nearly a powder by the weight of the other adults, but Shion tore it open and took a mouthful all the same. His stomach grumbled in relative satisfaction as he passed it up to Rico.

That was the only food they got that day, a small taunt to keep them hoping. More water was tossed in, and this time Shion caught one, but he had to share it with Rico, and by late afternoon the day was rather warm, so it did little to satiate him.

That first day was the best of his journey.

* * *

A/N- So, I was going to write more, but then I really just wanted to release something, because I got followers and favorites since I last updated. Figured I now was obligated to continue. So, here you go, this is for you.

Thank you for the support. It makes me feel good. That being said, I will not get down on my knees and beg for reviews/follow/favorites. If you like the story and want to read it, I appreciate it. But I like to maintain my pride as an author. Anyway, thanks, you guys. Suggestions (although I know most of where it's going already), complaints, flames, etc is welcome.

More is on the way. Eventually. I'm guessing I'll get to write more over holiday break, if I'm lucky.

I take requests for one-shots. I can do one-shots. There's a list of all the insane amounts of anime and manga I know on my profile. It may or may not make it take longer for me to update here, I'm not going to pretend to know.

Later.


	4. Nightmare Box

The sun was barely breaking the horizon when Shion awoke from a light sleep the next morning. He couldn't exactly see the sun itself, but the changing tone of the sky gave him a good idea. Typically, Shion loved to see the sunrise when he got the chance. It had been one of the few constants in his life through every living situation. The sun rose. The sun set. It could always be counted on.

This morning, however, Shion wasn't sure he wanted to see it. It made the whole situation far too real, and he couldn't escape reality, no matter how terrible things got. No, every day he was alive, the beautiful event would take place, dulling its glorious reputation by facing the dismal days and the brilliant ones with the same routine. It would not rise out of compassion or sympathy; something as precious as the gentle rainbow of red gracing the sky was becoming another cold hard fact about life at present.

Shion shuttered at the thought.

Rico was now asleep in Shion's arms, eyes fluttering and limbs jerking as he endured a bad dream. Shion considered waking the child, but didn't see the point. He would just be dragging the boy into a greater nightmare, one far scarier than any monster or imagined army.

He awoke several minutes later, panting slightly, and quickly buried his head into the chest he was leaning on. Shion could feel warm tears wetting his shirt and patted the boy's back. He kept his voice at a whisper, as other children in the truck were still blissfully unconscious, and it appeared a few adults were nodding off as well. Still, he his voice crept past his lips to say, "It's okay, Rico. I'll protect you. I'll get us out of this mess."

"Mmy pmsis," Rico muttered into the fabric. Without, he withdrew, wiped eye with a tiny, bony hand, and repeated, "Empty promises."

Shion grinned a small, sad smile. "Where did you learn to say something like that?"

"That book you read Karan and me last week."

"Hm. Well, you my word that I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe and return you to your mother."

"Karan too?"

Shion nearly teared at the pained hope deep in Rico's eyes as he sniffled and stared. He didn't know how to answer such a question, so he took a page from Nezumi's book and evaded it. "I promise I'll do my best."

The two quickly found there was still little to do but stand and think and fret, occasionally voicing their worries and finding little comfort. It was a long hour until a crate of green food packets was tossed from the front into the crowd of people and a frenzy began. In stark contrast to the dragging minutes of anguish, the transport jerked to life, and there was pushing and shouting, and Shion could barely hear the child inches from his ears saying, "Let me down, let me down!" Shion cast him a doubtful look, but when their stomachs growled in unison, he set him down to crawl and stumble between the feet of others.

Almost instantly, Shion became quite upset with himself for allowing Rico to do something so dangerous. He had held his promise for all 70 minutes, and now the little guy was going to be squished because they were hungry. Shion was just pounding his forehead with his palm for being so stupid and irresponsible, just like Nezumi always said he was, when Rico sprang up with three food packets and two water bottles.

"Uh, thank you, Rico," Shion said quietly, incredulous. The tot's tears were gone, and a proud smile lit up his features for a few moments as he basked in his small accomplishment.

_Maybe Nezumi was_ _wrong, _Shion thought. It simply a passing, unimportant thought, and it was forgotten by the time Shion ripped open his plastic sack and began eating the tasteless rations.

Rico could be very interesting, he learned, and had a complicated past and a detailed storytelling style. "I talk a lot when I get nervous," the tot had stated, fingering the hem of his ratty shirt. And Shion didn't mind the distraction in the slightest.

After the fourth or so tale from Rico's life- this one taking place about ten months before when he and Karan helped a woman they found giving birth on the sidewalk- Shion posed the question, "Why don't you try your hand at writing fiction?"

"Oh, I can't even write my name. No, Karan. Karan's a good writer and reader. But I'm not as good as her," He responded quietly from Shion's hip. Sometimes he forgot Rico was so young and uneducated, with all the street knowledge and life experience the boy had accumulated already. _West Block really does make you grow up fast, I guess. _

Shion hummed a reply, reaching down and playfully ruffling the hair his fingers met. "I'm sure you'll get to learn one day. Not only your name, but you'll be able to write all those wonderful stories."

The following day was uneventful. Rico managed to wiggle through the crowd and find another three food packets, this time with three water bottles. The older boy found himself bored out of his mind, having run out of stories to hear and tell and games to play as they awaited their fate.

Nezumi wandered in and out of Shion's mind. All of the overwhelming feelings were gone, their strength having fallen off the truck some ways back. Now, although it was a bit conflicting, it was all very simple at the same time. He missed Nezumi one hour, he was irritated with him the next, apathetic the third, and pathetic in his envy the fourth. All very understandable, and all very frustrating.

The fourth day, however, made all the previous ones seem like a vacation. Rico woke up early, asking Shion to hold him as high as he could. As soon as Rico's head was above the wooden walls of the box they were in, the boy hurled. Shion knew illness should have been expected considering the conditions they'd been in, but now it was here, another delightful perk of their situation, proving again how true and inescapable this hell was.

Rico was strong, though, stronger than he expected him to be, and sat quietly in his lap without complaint. Shion offered silent thanks that he was not crying like other small children who were now rousing from their slumbers, a few of them being violently ill as well. When the food was tossed into the collection of prisoners, Shion set Rico on his shoulders and did the scavenging himself. This time, however, he refused to share the meal, and gave it all to the sick boy. Rico had been too skinny for as long as Shion had known him, and he needed to have some food in his body, even if he probably was going to throw it up.

Shion only felt mildly ill, and couldn't tell if it was from worry or an actual medical affliction. Either way, he ignored it, and did his best to not falter on the slippery slope that was his hope and strength for facing the grim future.

A/N

Sorry about the slow update. **Thanks for all the support**, and I'm glad you're enjoying it. I figured out the end. Why do you care? Because I never cut off a story that I have figured out, so I will continue and finish it, eventually. The end's going to be fun to write, too, and I think fitting finish. Now I just have to get there. K, I think I'm done chewing your eat off.

If you review, follow, or favorite, I thank you. All these things bring me smiles and motivation. Thank you for your cooperation.

***Happy Holidays, Beautiful Readers!***


	5. Igarashi Kiseki

Nightfall took far too long to come around on day four. Since early that morning, most of the other prisoners had become violently ill. The unclean conditions only served to worsen the situation, and the whole experience was getting harder to tolerate by the minute.

Shion had lived most of his life sheltered from germs, having only gotten a cold twice in his life. Aside from that, his medical history was only really tainted by the same parasite bee incident that had granted him his ivory hair, red eyes, and rosy scar. He was rather ill-equipped to deal with so many health hazards at once, from the lack of hygiene, to the poor nutrition, and now this… That was not to mention that he died four days ago, and even still wore the same blood stains from his fatal wound.

Now, Shion's mind was a bit foggy with illness, with all of the different sensations of discomfort being the only things cutting through the haze. His limbs managed to be both numb and covered in searing pinpricks at the same time, his stomach would not cease retching painfully every few seconds, and he doubted he'd ever had such an awful headache in all of his life.

_So… hot… _Echoed through his mind occasionally, pounding against the inner walls of his skull before fading into nothing.

The only thought he'd been able to retain throughout the day was that he had to keep checking on Rico. Hour after hour, he'd find the strength to choke down the pain long enough to feel the boy's forehead and whisper the same question.

"Will you be alright?" Shion asked again, ascertaining that the boy still held a low fever, or so he felt. Rico gave Shion a weak thumbs-up before falling back into the deep sleep that had kept him quiet for the majority of the day.

For once, Shion didn't fret about someone being ill. He didn't chew on his thumb in worry and hold the hand of Rico as he had his mother and Safu on a couple of occasions. He didn't plague them with enough questions to make himself annoying. He didn't find a wet wash cloth and blankets and distractions to keep Rico entertained as he waited out the sickness.

Nor did he allow himself to feel or expression much of his own suffering, and the terror it caused. He did not fan himself and cough himself into a coma as he had back in his old life in the cities. He didn't call for Nezumi and grip the sheets and let tears spring from his eyes as he had in the case of the parasite. In a day of pure agony, he lay quietly and took it like an adult. He was just beginning to realize that he was going to have to be an adult if he wanted to live, and without all of the ceremony and prestige that came with maturing in No. 6. Not even Nezumi was here to take care of him now. It was every man for himself, and he had taken on the responsibility of tending to Rico in addition. He had a lot waiting for him, and he would have to grow up to face it, or he could be certain he would not live long enough to keep his promise and wait for Nezumi to return.

Night brought no sleep, but the cooled air reduced Shion's fever considerably. He had been buried under other flushed bodies, all of which had been tossed onto him after one bump of the truck or another. Stuck to him were layers of clothes he had refused to shed, even in the noon heat, as it was winter and he was terrified of losing them and missing them later. Still, it was easy to feel when the sun had set and the entire world dropped ten or so degrees within an hour or so.

Shion was wide awake when, sometime, deep in the night, the trucks suddenly stopped. He figured that he was probably hallucinating, or maybe dreaming, but they had definitely stopped in his mind. With a great creek that ripped away at Shion's nerve endings, the back wall of the truck fell open, and a vague wave of thuds had the small, barely functioning observational part of Shion convinced that bodies of the sick and restless were tumbling out. There was shouting and screaming and after a few seconds, the mound of prisoners shifted off of his back and that of Rico next to him. This, not surprisingly, woke the boy, and he squeezed Shion's hand, his frail bones shivering under thin, cut skin.

Shion didn't pretend to know what was happening as a raw, instinctive wave of fear poured over him. His skin prickled and burned as an unwelcomed shot of adrenaline began to course through him, heightening his senses as he, too, was yanked from his position.

Then the ground was under him, cold and cutting, and he yanked Rico onto his lap. In one move he was crouched over, shielding the boy from all the loud and dangerous as best he could. Later he would come to reflect on the fact that he didn't know where such reflexes came from, but he was glad he had them.

After a few excruciatingly long seconds, a gun shot rang in Shion's ears. With a shaky hand, he parted his ivory bangs and did his best to find the source, and maybe some clue as to what was happening while he was at it. From the man standing on the top of a van with a gun in his hand, the bullet had probably been directed to the starless sky. It brought good results, as a relative hush fell over the crowd of prisoners and soldiers. This man with the gun, looking confident in a suit and tie, looked over the assembly, seemingly without judgment.

He took some type of microphone from briefcase by his feet, and began to speak. "Good evening, former citizens of West Block and No. 6. May I begin with my sincerest apologies with regard to what has taken place over the past four days. I take full responsibility for the transgression of my subordinate."

No one spoke. Shion, for one, was too busy drowning in the murky waters of his own mind. Who was this, and why were they apologizing? The fever made it difficult to focus on even such simple questions. Maybe he was dreaming. Yeah, this was one of those bizarre, hazy side effects of being ill. Otherwise, some nameless suit wouldn't be starting to speak again.

"Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Igarashi Kiseki." Under any other circumstances, some 200 former West Block citizens would have risen from the congregation formed by the emptied trucks and leapt at Igarashi without further provocation. Shock has many interesting consequences, including a convenient silence at times.

"It is my hope that we may all someday soon join together to create a new and better world. This was a vastly inappropriate first impression, and you have my apologies. I did not make myself clear when stating that you were to be brought to The Union as valued future citizens. Allow me to assure you that when we all arrive in a few moments, you will be treated of your illness and thoroughly compensated as you are welcomed to your new home. You are not prisoners of The Union, but new neighbors and friends, honored and respected. That being said, I plead with you to retake your position on the transports so that we can reach the Clinic and Integration Centers in a timely fashion. If you would please," Igarashi said, letting the microphone fall to his side and tossing the opposite hand around to motion toward the trucks.

No one moved until the armed guards ensured that Igarashi's orders were carried out, by way of pointing magazines at aching heads. Shion was sure that he had misunderstood what this man was trying to say, but chose not to think on it too much just yet. Instead, he clung to Rico and took it one second at a time, stepping back into the vehicles and bracing himself for another bumpy ride.

Twenty minutes later, he was off the truck again.

Now, Shion was confronted with a large, well-lit building, piled high with story after story of sleek glass and metal. Igarashi began ordering into the microphone, replacing armed soldiers with nurses who took Shion by the arm and dragged him in. It all felt so surreal, there was little to do but comply and wonder if it had always felt like he was watching his life from afar.

* * *

Important stuff: It's not going in the direction you're thinking. I'm not abandoning my quest to make things more realistic, so just hold your horses. Please and thank you for your patience and commitment.

Now that that's out of the way~! I'm back to Corrupted! I'm totally late, I know. SORRIES! I'm afraid I've been really busy as of late, but I won't bore you with details. Point is, it leaves me with stacks of plot bunnies (8 to be exact) and scarcely updated fics like this one. Plus, this story is usually really hard. Maybe it was easy tonight because I forgot having any decent sort of style... Sorry about that. I needed to update, and it gets the point across. These chapters are really boring to write. All the juicy, fun, easy stuff comes later.

Thanks for all of the reviews and kind words so far! They are excellent motivation. But, as always, I won't beg, bribe, or blackmail my way to them.

Thanks for reading!


	6. Clinic

A/N- Well I was hit with INSPIRATION as to how to go about this chapter. Then I fell asleep. The next day, I got a review from holygreatgrandparomanempire (- Awesome name, btw) telling me to update, and became REINSPIRED! So thank them with me. Thank you! Unfortunately, I only got half done then. Following that, I entered the busiest month of my life. Thank goodness this will be up. I have three more one shots I vowed not to post until I updated. ^^; At any rate, I know you didn't come for an updated author's note, so here you go~

_Even the food is good, _Shion thought with a hesitant smile as he took a drink of perfectly warm stew. It was some hours after he had first been pulled into this mysterious clinic in the infamous No. 2, a surprisingly good turn of events. The staff of the building allowed him to share something like a hospital room with little Rico, and the nurses acted on the words of this Igarashi Kiseki by tending to the medical needs of the prisoners. Or, hopefully, former-prisoners.

There had been medicine and showers and clean clothes waiting for the trucks of people, and it all seemed to be without a catch. Shion was still tentative and shaken, but it was very easy to give into the allure of a good-looking situation. It certainly beat the looted hell of what had been No. 6 and West Block. The nurses were kind and smiling, the building was clean and warm, and the atmosphere was one of so much relief that Shion could almost pull it out of the air and cradle it in his fingers. He could save the fight and grief for when he had regained his strength.

Shion set the bowl back down on a neat bedside table and turned to his roommate in the cot beside him. "Are you doing well, Rico?" Although the nurses had been very understanding and comforting to the young patient, Shion had continued to keep one eye on him at all times. Rico hadn't even sat down until Shion told him to, but now he was hungrily gulping his stew, nodding vigorously at the question.

hion sipped a glass of water, wondering just how long they'd be allowed to stay in this seemingly wonderful place, and where they'd go after. It occurred to him that if Igarashi had some unmentioned fine for the care, Shion would most likely end up either working day and night to pay it off, or running from the debt entirely. Though, considering how he had been brought here, he was afraid to find out what the consequences of running would be. It seemed reasonable to assume he would be tracked down and loaded back, or worse…

When the last of the food has disappeared from Shion's table, he slowly helped himself out of his cot and stood, now clad in a deep red T-shirt and jeans. His body ached vaguely, but most of his pain had disappeared with his fever shortly after he took some medication. Wandering around the small, relatively empty room and exploring, Shion didn't find much. The only thing he really learned was how big a city this new No. 2 was already. Stretching out beyond the window on the far wall was a endless cityscape. There were apartments and work buildings and factories and businesses as far as the eye could see from the third story. To be able to keep such a place under control and out of the anarchy that had immediately descended upon No. 6 and West Block, this Igarashi Kiseki had to have a great deal of power. Shion vaguely wondered how a man who spoke with so little personal intimidation managed to accumulate the manpower to rule this metropolis, but his thoughts were interrupted.

"Ah, and may I assume you're feeling better?" A nurse asked from the doorway. She had short brown hair and a perky smile, and she was carrying a plastic clipboard the same color as her scrubs.

"Much better, thank you," Shion said simply, and Rico nodded vigorously.

"Excellent. In a few minutes, you will be escorted to the clinic cafeteria. Igarashi will be giving a speech. If you have any problems until then, please don't hesitate to speak up," she said, and stood there for a second, giving both the patients the opportunity to present a question. In truth, Shion had around nine hundred questions bouncing about in his mind, but he only began with one.

"If I may ask," he starting, opting to go with something basic, and that would potentially keep him out of trouble. "Why do you refer to Igarashi only by his name?"

"Igarashi doesn't like terms like "emperor" or "king", because he feels they portray him as distant from his people. Because of this, he has asked that everyone simply address him as though he were just another citizen," the nurse said quickly, sounding as if she were used to the question by now. Shion thanked her, and the peppy young woman turned away and practically skipped into the hallway.

This Igarashi certainly was different from the tyrant Shion would have expected. He seemed to have a fixation on personal kindness. Keeping the opinion Shion figured Nezumi would hold in mind, he was wary about accepting the ideals. These tempting words could easily be a way to manipulate citizens into supporting him. Thinking back, Shion remembered that Hitler spent some time making similar promises, painting a picture of a better life to gain a following. It was the same persuasive technique as the utopian ideals of No. 6.

Same horrid techniques, new power hungry dictator.

Shion's ponderings were soon interrupted by the clinic staff when he and Rico were ushered into the hallway. _Speech and cafeteria and Igarashi Kiseki bounced off the walls in interested, murmuring voices._

The room was small and unimpressive, unlike the guards it was lined with. It was because of them that most of the crowd was sitting quietly, as was evident by the heavy silence. To Shion's great surprise, no one pushed the circumstances, and Igarashi got his chance to speak.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and children, I'd like to welcome you to your new home, the city formerly known as No. 2. This city, Renaissance, as you may have already seen, is a thriving and pleasant metropolis. Soon, the entire population of this planet we be collected here, so we can live together harmoniously.

"Whether you come from No. 6 or West Block, young or old, bright or dull, you will be given a new, full life here; one with food, work, friendship, and family. Here, you will be treated as an equal."

Igarashi continued to preach, with a proud smile adorning his features, of the better world he was creating. He spoke of a memorial for those lost in "the recent war between No. 6 and West Block," and of a "welcoming city of goodwill toward all."

"Our government is a very open one," he dared say. "I, as the leader Renaissance, would be more than happy to speak to each of you personally for any problem you may have, now and in your many years as a Renaissance citizen." At this point, he ignored a shout of hate from a restless face in the crowd. "You have freedom of the press, so feel free to criticize or ridicule our government. Your opinion will be taken into account as we continue to improve our society. In addition, the government office is always open. If you want to know what's on the agenda, come in and see for yourself."

Shion stood still, Rico in his arms, in a freeze of shock and disbelief. There was no way the man responsible for trucking them in like merchandise would keep such promises. Even if he provided medical care, this pristine well-intentioned world had to be a guise. Before Igarashi concluded his speech, Shion had formed his opinion of the man: He was a liar and a danger. _I will not submit to you. _

_Nezumi would have been proud. _

"Hello, welcome to Renaissance Name?" A middle-aged man was smiling politely over a table about an hour later. He was one of many city officials currently taking on the task of creating new records for the incoming population, or so Shion was told. In the past hour, as people were pulled from the edges of the crowd and taken in for interrogation, Shion had been searching Rico's mother, rather unsuccessfully. Moments ago, Rico had been ripped from him by some muscular Renaissance personnel.

Shion was not happy.

He said nothing.

"What's your name, please, sir?" The man said, pen ready.

Nothing.

"Can you speak?"

"Yes."

"Do you require a translator, sir?"

"No."

"Then, may I please have your name?"

"There is a child under my care whom you have taken from me. I will not answer any questions until I get him back."

"Sir, one of Renaissance's main objectives is establishing stable, loving families. The child will be well taken care of until he can return to his. The sooner you both create documentation, the sooner you can be reunited."

"He's not my child, he's my responsibility. And I want him back, _now." It was all Shion could think to say. He knew perfectly well that Nezumi would know what to do here, and was trying desperately to imitate him. But then, Nezumi wouldn't be responsible for a child at all. Once you have someone, to protect, you've already lost. _

"Look, sir, it just doesn't work like that. But, with just some of your identification information, we can work it out so you can get your kid back." It also occurred to Shion, at thus point, that he had a criminal record, one that may even include war crimes. People still wanted his head, he was sure. Giving out his name could end up killing him, if these records remained truly public. There was no way he could crack and make it back to this position as an innocent face in the crowd. "Or do I need to get Igarashi down here?" the officials asked, becoming visibly exasperated at Shion's obtuse attitude.

Shion said nothing. Not ten minutes later, the tall and lanky Igarashi Kiseki stepped the door, relieved the questioner of his responsibility, and sat across from Shion. Once the two men were alone, save an armed bodyguard, Igarashi spoke.

"Hello, Shion." Amusement rang in every syllable. "I know who you are.


	7. Nuclear Families

I wish to state ahead of time that I don't purposely make any political statement with the creation of this fanfic. All points I aim for are philosophical and/psychological ones. Please don't take the following conversation to have any meaning aside from its literary context. Thank you.

"Huh?" Shion said dumbly. "How do you know my name?" Suddenly, the harsh white walls were closing in a little too quickly for comfort.

"Well Shion, honors student, son of the currently missing Karan, it is my responsibility as leader to know such things. After all, you were involved with the downfall of the No. 6 metropolis. I can't possibly allow that to happen to Renaissance, so it only makes sense that I would keep an eye on potential trouble makers."

Shion struggled to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat at the sound of his mother's name. That was a matter he'd correct later, though. "Then do you know Nezumi?"

Igarashi's look changed from something completely unreadable to utter confusion. "There are no rats in our society. We are very strict about our cleanliness."

_Good_, Shion thought suddenly, as his mind scrambled to keep him collected and logical in such an important situation. _That means he won't be hunting Nezumi. Maybe I can escape here and go to find him myself. _Shion knew it was unlikely to happen any time soon at all, but he doubted they could be reunited in peace while here in this city.

When he took this long pause to contemplate, Igarashi continued. "Now, I'm given to understand there was some situation regarding a little boy?"

It was not the smoothest conversation of Shion's life, and with every sentence, he couldn't help but wonder if he was dooming himself. The only thought the faintest bit comforting was one that all he had to do was make it through this conversation. Take things one breath at a time. It crossed his subconscious a number of times: would Igarashi shoot him, right here where he sat? There was nothing trustworthy suggesting this crazed dictator wouldn't, but he knew who Shion was. If he didn't think much of shooting people, shouldn't he have taken Shion down by now? Why hesitate? The speculation made it hard to concentrate on convincing Igarashi to give him Rico back.

"Shion, you seem like a reasonable man," Igarashi said at one point, after they'd been going back and forth for quite a few minutes. Now, he was leaning in, lightly tanned chin sitting on the palm of his hand. "I understand that this boy means a great deal to you, but the sooner we all accept this society's new functionality, the sooner we can all get on with our lives."

"What lives? Hundreds of people were just lost. Family members. Loved ones. That little boy's older sister just died. You can just throw his family back together because you rule Renaissance. What lives are you inviting them into, exactly?"

Igarashi abandoned Shion's gaze for a moment to stare down into the steel table. Something flashed across his eyes. Some type of hesitation. "Perhaps the vagueness of my words is the problem here. I can tell that you want the truth from me, so here it is. Shion, as much as you want a perfect world to live in, and for your friends to live in, you want to make sure it conforms to your definition of perfect, a presupposed ideological world we will never achieve. That is why we are creating new families in Renaissance. Your perfection will never be reality. Our perfection, however, is within arm's reach."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"You're a questioning type, that's good. I'll have to remember that for your job placement. To be blunt, I'll do what I can to find the mother of this little boy. I will. But, if that life cannot be recreated, he will be placed in a new family. It will have two parents and new siblings, and he will live in a Renaissance residence and get an education here, and live a full, successful life. You, too, will be given a life. From the looks of the populations we've been getting, you'll be getting a wife and some young children. You may even end up with that little boy as your son."

"You lying son of a-," Shion began, but was cut off by a couple of guns pointed his way. "You're giving him to a family of strangers? This is your perfect world? Nuclear families?"

"An antiquated term, but an accurate one. It seems like an odd idea now, but it is the best way to create a peaceful existence. For example, in just a few short weeks, you'll be settled into your new home, eating dinner with your wife and child or children, having just returned from a long day in a job that uses your exceptional mental abilities, but not one with so much power that you could destroy the city I've worked so many years to construct. A joyful, happy, loving existence. What's so wrong with that?"

"I don't want a wife-"

"Husband, then? It could be arranged-"

"And Rico doesn't want a stranger for a mother!" Shion clenched his fists, struggling to hear past the blood rushing in his ears. "Who the _hell _do you think you are?"

"Shion, you're a man of revolution! Why can't you embrace this future? So it's a change in one of the fundamental points of human culture. Humans are always changing, and this is for the better. This doesn't have to be such a bad thing if we just stop running away from the unfamiliar and embrace it! And with all of the loss and war that has taken place in this earth over the last few years, isn't it about time we made a drastic change to our society? So far, nothing has worked, and what do we keep changing? Government and communities. Well, I'm not such a crazed dictator that I would change individuals, so what am I left to tinker with? The family dynamic."

"_Tinker with!? _Life isn't a game, Igarashi! You can't just force this change upon people! We'll fight back! I will never submit to you!" Shion shouted, bursting up from his seat and shouting down at where Igarashi was still smugly sitting, condescendingly preaching like the world itself had be created for him to run. He probably thought it had.

"You will forever refuse to be a part of this thriving new world around you?" Shion could have sworn there was _amusement _in his tone, enough to match all which danced in his light blue eyes.

Shion threw his head about in response, afraid that if he spoke again, he would lose control of his words and be shot where he stood. Those guards around them didn't look terribly pleased that he was towering over Igarashi even now.

"Well, we'll see how that turns out, now, won't we? You will be placed in a home, Shion, at least for a little while. Hopefully you'll eventually come around. If not, you'll be kept as conditional citizen. Please keep an open mind. If you comply, you'll get a wonderful life, all criminal charges will be dropped, any mistakes of your past forgotten, and a job where you can help to improve what you'll find to be a wonderful world. Now, I believe I have all of your information, so you do not need to continue the debriefing process. If you'll excuse me…" Igarashi rose gracefully, as much so as he spoke, and was turning toward the door when Shion gave one final thought.

"Igarashi?"

"Yes, Shion?"

"Change your records. Karan is dead."

There was a brief moment of silence. Igarashi was still turned away, looking over his should at Shion. He said quietly, "I'm sorry for your loss. Her name will be included in the memorial."

"And Safu's?"

"Safu?"

"Safu."

Igarashi face straight ahead, adjusted his jacket, and said as he walked out with his guards, "We will speak again later."

In the time he spent wondering when such a later would actually come, Shion was kept in something like a cell. It was a tiny square room with one slight window a good six inches above eye level, and very little to do. Well, what was a bored prisoner to try but attempt escape? Unfortunately, repeated experimentation suggested there was no physical way for Shion to launch himself up and through the window, especially with the steel bars and all.

Just as he was thinking he'd have to find a new tactic, the voice of Shion's guard rang through the home sweet crevice. "Look, buddy," the rather huge man said, his words thick. "You're only in here a couple of days until they place you in a home! Cool it, would ya?"

In all truth, Shion had no genuine intention of escaping. He knew if he did so now, when he had only just arrived, and with Igarashi watching him so closely, he wouldn't get more than a few steps out of confinement. But it was Shion's only medium of protest, so he began digging a tunnel on his hands and knees.

Thoughts of Nezumi still meandered about his mind. Where was he now? Was he okay? Was he evading No. 2's forces? Had he been captured? And then there was Rico, and hundreds of other children like him, about to be shoved into fake worlds and told to live with it. The very idea made Shion's stomach curl and contort under his skin. This was the entirety of his existence for three and a half days until the burly guard opened the cell door and took his captive by the wrists.

"Where are we going?" Shion demanded, but put up no physical fight.

As he shoved the teen through narrow twisting corridors, the guard would say only, "To speak to Igarashi."

* * *

Eh, it's short, but whatever. I'm already working on the next chapter, and I figured I best keep adding on to this as I continue to gain more and more support. Speaking of support, THANK YOU ALL! You make me have such happy feels! SUCH HAPPY HAPPY FEELS! Honestly, not only each review, but each favorite and follow make me so very elated, and that happiness eventually translates into motivation! And THAT leads to two chapter posts in one week! It's not cause it's Spring Break or I've been sick a week or anything.

Sorry if Shion is OOC. I was thinking last night, have I ever actually written for Shion IN character? And then it hit me, yes! At one point, I was writing for Shion, and he was dead. In that instance, he did indeed act very, very dead. Yep. Didn't breathe or anything.

ANYWAY, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. :)


	8. Hikamura Eiko

I'd like to thank everyone for all the wonderful follows, faves, and reviews, on this and all my other attempts at fanfics. After posting last, I was locked in this awful mindset of wasthatstupidandawfuldoeseveryonehatemeohmygod! So, thank you all for the breath of relief. Now, please don't get all spoiled on updates, it's incredibly weird that I'm updating this often. I like this pacing, but it's not always possible. Just, no hate, please. ENJOY~

"There's my favorite trouble maker. Good morning, Shion. Care for some breakfast?" They now met in Igarashi's office, a lavish room that spoke nothing of the humble life the man so often claimed to live. Words of his excellency and modesty were exchanged each morning outside of Shion's cell, as workers took their breaks. Such a shameless liar.

"No, thank you. I want nothing you can give me."

"So I take that to mean you haven't changed your mind?" Igarashi had an infuriating talent for keeping his expressions perfectly unreadable.

"I have not."

The powerful leader of Renaissance, new face of the mysterious No. 2, rose from his leather swivel chair behind a mahogany table and began to pace casually about his room. He was a slight man physically, wearing suits that almost hung off him. He couldn't have been a day over forty-five, with well kept hair just beginning to grey under the stresses of responsibility. His height left something to be desired, and sometimes even his saunter was just unsteady enough to seem weak. Even still, he was perfectly authoritative in the way he glared and demanded to know, "Why?" On the lips of this picture of civil intimidation, it was barely a question, and Shion, having spent a week playing prisoner, wondered if he would be punished more for answering with something unsatisfactory, or with nothing at all. His voice caught in his throat and made the choice for him.

"Shion, you can't be so easily frightened. I'm your friend, you can trust me. You especially have to trust friends like me, my dear boy, friends with rank, if you're going to continue to be so easily intimidated. And so stubborn. You'll get eaten alive in the cold harsh world, innocent Shion. Is that what you want? You should stay here, and let me keep you safe."

"That isn't going to work, Igarashi," Shion managed, feeling a drop of sweat slip down his brow.

The man stopped in his tracks and leaned on the table, biting his lip in thought. "I know," he muttered quietly, mostly to himself. After a long, heavy moment, he straightened and clapped his hands. "Well, that's the last of my efforts. We'll just have to do this the hard way. Say hello to your wife for me." Two hired muscles took Shion and practically carried him out of the office, almost too quickly for him to hear Igarashi call, "Keep in touch!"

It was all very surreal, getting lugged through huge, empty buildings, all webbed together by hallways and elevators. The government building, the clinic and integration building, the record house, the science laboratories, and the university were all interconnected, and it put miles between Igarashi's office and a small black car that shuttled Shion to his future.

Each second was an eternity, and it was a good hour before the driver, a quiet, jumpy young woman, finally parked in a driveway. Every house Shion had seen along the way had, through the heavily tinted windows, looked identical in every conceivable fashion. Two stories, white paint job, cherry accents. "What are the apartments for, then?" Shion asked as the woman opened his door and took his arm. Honestly, had the handcuffs really been necessary?

"Oh, those are for the comfort of the elderly. Oh, and single young adults until they receive their spouses. And, yeah," she said, absolutely green. She didn't quite seem sure whether to ring the doorbell or just walk on in, so she stood awkwardly for a few moments until the door opened itself.

It eased open a crack, just wide enough for one eye to glare past. "Who goes there?!"

"Uh, uh, Integration?" Shion almost felt badly for this young woman assigned to his delivery as she bowed repeatedly at the eye.

"Ah, I'm just kidding, lady. Come on in. Welcome, welcome, to my glamorous abode!" The door swung open to reveal an open, sunny entryway. Stacking high within it were large cardboard boxes, and grinning giddily in one corner was a girl in her late teens with blond hair that bounced as she hopped on her tips toes. She wore a small green undress, despite the chill in the air, and lipgloss that reflected the ample sunlight in the room.

"I am so excited!" She screeched, and Shion couldn't help but flinch as she continued, in a rush of slurred syllables, "Well, at first I was really scared. And some old dude barfed on me in the truck. No excitement there, ya know? But now I get to live in this he-uge house, and there's food, and clothes, and now this! I got a call yesterday saying a man from the government was gonna come be married to me! And my Pappy said I'd never find a husband! Or a house with a staircase! Well, look at me now, Pappy! Oh, I'm Eiko, Hikamura Eiko! Nice to meet you!"

"Yes, well, I'll be on my way, then!" murmured the driver as she struggled to remove the handcuffs from Shion's wrists, and she was closing the door behind her before Hikamura Eiko could say another word.

"Hi!" She chirped, throwing out a hand to shake.

"Ah, hello, my name is Shion."

"Shion! That's a cool name! Like the flower? I like flowers!" Before Shion know what was happening, Hikamura had thrown her arms around his neck, practically tackling him.

"Er, yes?"

"Cool." The girl stepped back, and then proceeded to look Shion over with rather discriminating look in her eye. Saying nothing, she smiled when she was done, the trotted away into the oblivion of the boxes.

"Wait, Hikamura? Where're you going?"

"Erg, soooo many boxes, right? I've been trying to unpack them all, but that Igarashi guy is really generous. There's a whole box just filled with dishes. The whole thing! Crazy, isn't it? It'll take me all year. Hey, you live here now, maybe you can help. You can tell me where to put all the man clothes, too." As Hikamura continued too ramble, Shion was left wandering the cardboard maze that was the bottom story looking for her. Finally, when she had moved on to talking about the color of the walls relative to the couch, he found her, kneeling on the ground, lost to her waist in a tipped box. Scattered around her were boxes of just-add-water stews and ready-made oven dinners.

Hikamura interrupted herself with a triumphant, "Ah-hah!" and crawled out. She sprung up and shoved something small and green beneath Shion's nose. "Here. You're too skinny. I'm your naggy wife now, so eat!" The moment it was between Shion's fingers, Hikamura was chewing on a-whatever it was as well, and was turning back around. Shion, afraid of losing track of her again, set a hand firmly on her shoulder and turned her about face.

"Please, Miss Hikamura, listen for a moment. You should know first that I'm not going to sit here and be your husband." Shion said quietly, trying to make his voice gentle. Hikamura reminded Shion vaguely of a popped balloon as they joy slipped from her features.

"Well, that didn't last long." She crossed her arms while Shion rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Look, I'm sure you're a lovely young woman, but it just isn't going to work. Can we go sit down?" And a lovely young woman she was, Shion discovered as they conversed at the kitchen table minutes later, if a talkative one.

Hikamura Eiko was eighteen years old, grew up in West Block with her grandparents, was soon to begin training to work as a mechanical assistant, and didn't much mind living in Renaissance. "That leader man has been taking good care of Pappy and Poppy since we got here. And he gave me more of a life than I ever thought possible as a West Block baby. At least for now, I'm gonna wait and see how it all plays it."

"What about you, Mr. Shion, three days late to the party?"

"Ah, there's really not that much I'd like to tell at the moment."

"Come on, you have to like something."

"Uh, does reading count?"

"Of course! You grow up in West Block?"

"No. 6. I just moved to West Block a couple months ago." Hikamura now had her chin propped in her hand, that judgmental look back in her eye.

"You seem familiar. Did you do anything special?"

"Uh..."

"Ah! You were the one involved with the wall on Holy Day!"

"One of them, yes..." Shion said hesitantly, unsure of whether he should be talking about it.

"Good man. Taking stuff into his own hands. So what's the plan? World domination?"

The bright grin across Hikamura's face didn't seem at all offended, Shion was happy to note. Here, with the looting and general devastation, he would have expected a very different reaction, not that he minded this. Still, he knew that, once again, his wording could easily grant him more enemies. Shion had been under such a pressure a lot lately.

"Not quite. For right now, I'd just like to leave Renaissance."

"Why, Shion? You're nice. I could stand to live with you for a while. Wouldn't it be fun to just stay and play house?" Hikamura's curls bobbed into her face as she sank into a pleading puppy pout.

Play house. He always had wanted to live that simple carefree life, ever since he met Nezumi. He had had dreams of the two of them, and his mother and Safu, all just happy and together. But that dream wouldn't be granted to him, not in such a confined existence, and not without Nezumi. Even if Shion had been willing to settle into tempting embrace of Renaissance, Nezumi would hate it. That was enough to reject the place.

"I'm sorry, Hikamura. It just isn't where I belong, and you aren't who I belong with."

"Meh. You already have a lover don't you? That's what all this is really about."

Shion couldn't help but smile. "Something like that."

"Well, this is juicy. C'Mon, tell me about her. Is she pretty?"

Although under most circumstances would have had Shion correcting the assumption of gender and awkwardly twidling his thumbs, this time he just thought of Eve, and how much he loved every side of Nezumi, every dark secret and hidden persona he had to offer. Eve was, without a doubt, a walking piece of art, so, "Gorgeous."

Even with the knowledge that Shion had no intention to stay, Hikamura was lovely company. A quick moment of thought had Shion convinced that he could take the day and relax, calm himself of all the recent stresses, and have a mind ready for new challenges in the morning. For the day, he could sit and talk to his roommate, allowing his subconscious a little break.

And a break it needed. In every long pause in the conversation, every natural reached second of silence, horror flashed behind Shion's eye. When Hikamura's easy laugh wasn't fully distracting him, he could picture all the carnage of the past few days. It was all perfectly clear: images of his mother, young Karan, and hundreds of other casualties, bodies laying beaten by assault or the parasite bees, and broken dreams, glinting under the disheartening sun.

When Hikamura took advantage of a drag in the conversation to seek out more snacks, Shion wondered if he's yet thoroughly disillusioned, or if some of his innocence, naivete even, still remained. He had not yet been given the opportunity to properly grieve, although he could see such a deprivation leaning for either effect, innocence or realism. How he managed to fight off the images so well while caged up, he was still unsure. Likely some natural war instinct or something.

When Shion went to sleep on the couch relatively early that night, he managed to keep his restless mind on two main topics: a plan, and Nezumi.

It occurred to Shion, as Hikamura's pleas for him to stay rattled through his mind, that he really didn't know what he was doing. What did he do now? Where was he to go?

Surely, there were times when Nezumi was running for his freedom, just to anywhere that would have him. Finding some comfort and inspiration in the thought, and the idea that maybe Shion was gaining a better understanding of his love, he decided that he would take similar action. Sometime the next day, Shion would set out. He would go as his feet would carry him, and he would survive.

Nezumi. Shion couldn't help but worry about him. Was he okay? Did he have food? Shion was confident Nezumi could evade the Renaissance trucks well enough, and surviving on wit would not be a first for him, but still. Shion couldn't come up with anything he wouldn't give for the knowledge that Nezumi was okay.

Where was he, anyway? What was so incredibly important? Why, why, why had Nezumi left Shion? The moment that uncertainty entered Shion's exceptional mind, he grew cold under his blankets. Why had his love run away from him?

* * *

More one-shots to come. _You have more of those stupid things?_ Yes. And a handful of ideas and scribbling._ Jeez. Someone should get a life. _Meh, who needs one during fourth quarter. **Edit: Yet I'm busy anyway. I feel ripped off. **Besides, last night, my dream took place in Nezumi and Shion's apartment. I am a happily and thoroughly inspired fangirl.

**Edit ~ Update information, 4/6/13: *Hides behind some of Igarashi's guards* Uh, hi... So, you want me to update. I want me to update. The ladies Fate, not so much... But I have excuses! 1) I'm having serious computer issues. I'm borrowing the computer to write this. I will write on my phone still, but that's slower, and I can't post. 2) I have 20 articles to write in the next two months, and a website to make, and that's with my lack of expertise and opportunity to use computers in the first place. 3) The entire month of April is Criterian Reference Testing, so that's studying and exhaustion. The joy. 4) I have to go back and edit out typos and all that icky stuff that you're all kind enough to ignore. Anyway, I'll do my best, but sadly, this has to fall pretty low on my priority list.  
**

**Also, to my gorgeous reviewers, to whom I will likely begin responding in upcoming chapters, Nezumi will come. I'm looking forward to his return as much as you. I like writing for him better than Shion, and his part in all this will certainly prove interesting. There may be a few more chapters, though... Sorry! ^^' Enjoy your fanfiction and your day! **


	9. A New Escape

"What were you thinking?" Shion didn't care to look at Igarashi when he found himself in that now-familiar office early the following morning.

He dug his fingers into his new jeans and asked himself the same question.

"Shion. You seem like a good guy, as I'm sure I've said before. I'd like to talk to you, one civilized individual to another." Shion bit his tongue at 'civilized', but looked Igarashi straight in the eye. In

an almost pleading voice, the leader continued, repeating, "What were you thinking?"

"Don't talk down to me. I'm not a child."

"Are you certain? Because blindly taking off into the city seems pretty childish to me. What did you expect? An exit sign?"

"I don't answer to you." The whole figure it out along the way thing didn't turn out so well in practice.

"You didn't think to get a map or a reference book or technology or anything? You just, set out?"

Shion only grumbled under his breath, "I brought food..."

"Well, how about I give you another chance? I think, given time, you could really enjoy your life here. I won't lock you up unless you force me." Igarashi smiled broadly, as if doing Shion a favor.

"But, honestly, how does that level of planning take down No. 6? In fact, how does a mind as incredible with yours come up with such a ridiculous strategy at all?"

When it became clear that the conversation had reached its end, Igarashi dismissed Shion, and he was driven back to the house of Hikamura.

She, already deeply immersed in the role of wife, threw her arms around Shion's neck. Half into his shoulder, she murmured something along the lines of, "I was so worried!" Shion hesitantly patted her back, but only for a moment before pulling away. Hikamura's light eyes sparkled as she whispered, "Don't ever leave me again."

Although the line and the face tugged a couple uncontrollable heartstrings, they were just a bit out of place. "Erm, Miss Hikamura, I'm going to leave again. Soon."

A look of recollection flashed upon the woman's features. "Right! Heh heh..." And, giggling, she turned and padded into the house. Shion followed, somewhat uncertainly. She certainly was... Interesting.

The two sat on the sofa in silence for a few moments before Hikamura burst up without a word and leaned over the end table, picking through the crowded drawer. "I almost forgot! This came for you," Hikamura smiled, handing over an envelope.

It was from Rico.

Inside was a letter, apparently penned by the woman assigned to be Rico's new guardian. _She said she'd write for me if I stopped crying, _it said. _They won't tell me where my mother is, Shion. Or Karan. _

The cursive grew shaky as the letter's end drew nearer. The last line, just above where Rico had scribbled something close to his name, drove Shion into a dizziness he had trouble shaking off.

_When can I go home? _

He tracked down paper and a pen, but froze before beginning a return letter. How was he supposed to explain to such a young boy that his home was gone, his sister murdered, his mother presumed dead? There was no way Rico fully understood what had happened over the past week. All the child knew was he had gone on a scary trip to a brand new city unlike anything he'd ever known, and he kept getting separated from the people he cared about. Children didn't belong in these wars and political crises.

"Writer's block?" Hikamura asks knowingly, appearing behind Shion.

"I guess you could call it that."

"Who're you writing to, may I ask?"

"A very young friend of mine. He was just given a new mother."

"And he trusts you, so you get all the questions." She set down across the table, her features calmer than usual, and warmer. She looked far more compassionate this way.

"He's not yet at an age where he's capable of grieving in a way that's healthy," Shion reasoned, struggling to speak through his throat as it grew tighter beneath his skin.

"And you're not in a mental position to be taking on his pain. You just lost someone. I can tell. You don't have to say anything, but you can. I'll listen, if you'd like," Hikamura said softly, her lips curving into a bitter sweet smile.

Shion stared down at the empty page, trying to find the right words. They weren't complicated ones, but Shion found his wit to be escaping him more and more recently. "My mother, and my best childhood friend. The person I love is also gone for the moment."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you."

_But it's my fault._ The words burst into his mind before he could stop them, like an armed robber come to steal his precarious sanity. In the single moment that followed, he realized it was not something he could say out loud. Hikamura didn't know his role in the destruction of the Correctional Facility and No. 6. She would think him crazy, like he had some survivor's guilt. _I'm not a mental case, it's really my fault. It's my fault my mother and thousands of others died._

He sputtered out something context appropriate to hide the realization that had just exploded within him. "I can handle it, though. For now, I'm just worried about my little friend."

The conversation grew hazy as more and more of Shion's mind pitched itself into a trance.

_It's my fault Mom's dead. Safu, too. Nezumi and I brought down that wall and caused the looting. I didn't make the serum in time. We could have saved so many people in so many different ways. Why didn't we save them? _

"Shion. Shion!" Hikamura's sharp call brought Shion back into the moment. She was staring at him, almost into him, her concern evident. "Maybe you should take a break."

"I'm fine. Thank you, Miss Hikamura."

"You're crying, Shion." He didn't feel the fiery tears slipping off his chin to land on his writing paper until they were pointing out. When had he started crying?

"Oh, I guess I am. Sorry, it's been kind of a long week," Shion whispered, his voice cracking.

"I know, Shion. They were wonderful people, weren't they?" He nodded roughly in response. "It'll be okay. It'll all be okay."

_But it won't, will it? I'm an idiot. I keep messing around with things beyond me. People ended up dead because of me. And I think I can just take out without a plan and get out, and survive. I'm just an arrogant airhead, and I keep hurting people. _

"Thank you, Miss Hikamura. I think I'd like to be alone to think." He mustered up an agonized smile and rose from the table, abandoning the tearstained paper in favor of organizing his thoughts. Hikamura allowed him to leave, although she gave him another worried expression as he left.

He figured it would be best if he not leave the house, even for a walk, so he wandered around the many rooms of the rather large house until he came upon one nice and quiet. It appeared to be a study, so far with only a couple of armchairs and some cardboard boxes yet unopened. Here, he decided, he could tear himself apart in peace.

What kind of idiot, was he, anyway, for taking off without a plan? There was one thing Igarashi had gotten right, and that was how foolish Shion had been to just venture out blindly. And what if he had gotten out successfully? What was he to do then? Just set off and somehow find Nezumi? Eventually, they would be swept away by the Renaissance officers, fighting to get them back into the city or they would die trying.

But that was it, wasn't it? That was why he had to attempt escape. He wasn't just running away, he was resisting. What Igarashi was doing, it just wasn't right. Shion just couldn't sit by, be married to Hikamura, and accept his fate. He had to do something and running was the only thing he could do that wouldn't put any more lives at risk.

And, he was sure, others around him would run, too. And crowds on the outside would resist. If Igarashi was truly going to stop bringing people in by truck, he wouldn't get very many takers. People would fight back. Battles would take place, maybe even a war. It wouldn't be a pretty end to the reign of Renaissance, but it had to happen. Shion had to try to make it happen, in any way he could. He was involved in the destruction of No. 6 and would be taken seriously, even if the bees helped a good deal with that operation. Once Shion was on the outside, he could join forces with whle operation, and they could fight back, together. He and everyone he could find.

Including Nezumi.

Besides, sitting idle and being married to a woman wouldn't do much to reunite him and Nezumi, Shion reminded himself.

Shion made a promise to himself in the study. He would escape this giant cage, and he would resist Igarashi, doing so with Nezumi beside him. All those lives recently lost for the sake of a world where people lived freely, all of those innocent men, women, and children, he couldn't let be in vain. For his mother and Safu and Karan and everyone else, he would help to start a better earth, once and for all.

All of his tears were now long gone, and Shion wore a comfortable, almost devilish grin. He had a long term plan. Now, all he needed was to get out.

Confidence once again coursing through Shion's veins, he got a new piece of paper, and wrote his return letter to Rico. Even still, it hurt to write. _You may not be able to see your home again for a while, _he said, trying not to crush the boy too badly. _But you'll be safe in your new house in the mean time. They should be taking care of you. If anything happens, if they do anything to hurt you, let me know immediately, okay?_

_I'm sorry I can't be there with you right now, but it will all work out eventually, alright? _

"Shion, are you up to some lunch?" Just as he was pondering how to explain the death of the boy's family, such a voice came from the lower floor. Taking the page with him, Shion proceeded downstairs.

"Yes, thank you Miss Hikamura. I apologize for earlier," Shion said, somewhat embarrassed. He certainly wasn't proving to be a very resilient person, but now that he had his plan, he was already feeling stronger.

"Nothing to apologize for. I'd be absolutely torn up if I lost so many people so close to me. I'm lucky my Poppy and Pappy survived. Oh, I'm sorry. That's not helping anything. So, I've made sandwiches, because I don't really know how to cook! I'll learn before I get too busy with my job, though. Oh, Shion? Do you know how to cook?" The words came rushed and bubbly, proving Hikamura to be back to her old self.

"Yeah, I guess so. My mother was a wonderful baker. She taught me a little. And I've had a good deal of practice," he said, taking a plate from the counter and following his roommate back to the table. For a moment, he thought of all of his evenings spent cooking for Nezumi.

"Cool! Sounds like fun. Maybe you can help me learn. Oh, and Shion? You can call me Eiko. You're really polite, which is nice, especially coming from a teenage guy who's spent time in West Block. But we live together, at least for now, you know? And I call you Shion, so you don't have to call me Miss Hikamura all the time, of you don't want to."

"Um, okay then, Eiko."

"Much better."

Seeing Eiko smile like that, Shion looked forward to the day when she could live freely, with a husband who truly loved her. He was really starting to like her, as eccentric as she could be, and she deserved a life neither West Block nor Renaissance could give her. People like her were the reason Shion had to fight back. Just thinking about it made Shion feel empowered.

"So, is it too soon to ask how your letter's coming along?"

"No, not at all. It's coming along, but it's difficult. I can barely cope, and I'm an adult. How do I put family death into words and not crush him?"

"Gently. I used to write a lot, just as a hobby. Do you think maybe I could help?"

"I'll take all the help I can get. Thank you."

Half a letter later, Shion felt he and Hikamura would make fine parents in a different universe. _You're mother and sister would want you to live a happy life. You don't have to be strong all the time, and I know it's very painful, but it'll all be okay eventually. And remember, I just lost my mother, and the closest thing to a sister I'll ever have. You can write to me any time, and I'll be a listening, understanding ear. _So he wasn't the perfect father, but he tried.

After lunch and letter, a car came and picked up Eiko, apparently to whisk her off to job training. Once again alone, Shion got to work learning about Renaissance, its defenses, and any possible means of escape. Now, he was on a mission.

Miles away, another mission was just getting underway. A man tread lightly across a desolate landscape.

* * *

A/N~ More to come later. Much later, sorry. When the monotony of endless tests (stupid state standards...) starts weighing down on me, one-shots are far easier for me than chapters, and completing them gives me the sense of accomplishment necessary to stop procrastinating. These are my excuses for having one and a half one shots done for another fandom, but having just started chapter 10. (Sigh.../coma/)

A HUGE thank you to all of the wonderful reviewers, favorites, and followers. They make my day and keep me from giving up :)

I was wondering what people thought of the pacing. Is it too rushed? I feel I have a lot of material to cover, and sometimes I end up with odd starts and stops. Is it too slow and plotting (for lack of a better word) at times? Thanks in advance.


	10. Letters

Igarashi's words echoed through Shion's mind as he sat, musing, pouting, and trying desperately to conspire. _"I don't know whether I should be proud or disappointed." _

After a couple of long, strenuous weeks of escape attempts, Shion had finally been all but out. He had just one more wall to hop, one more foot to get over. Somewhere along the way, though, he learned as he was pulled down and painfully stunned, he had tripped a silent alarm.

Now, Igarashi had decided to separate him from society as a federal prisoner. He was treated well, with low security, but it had become much harder to try to flee.

The cell was a small, white brick room, with one wall open, save the solid metal prison bars. The lock was too technologically advanced for Shion to understand from behind. A window with similar bars was on the back wall, too high for Shion to reach.

Inside, there was a simple wire cot with a small mattress, a sink, and a down-and-out teenager. For days, Shion had been studying his surroundings, trying desperately to concoct an escape plan. As of yet, he had been completely unsuccessful.

After half an hour or so of trying to grow eight inches so he could reach the window, Shion flopped down on his cot, groaning loudly. Fingers dividing his vision, he stared up at the dull, water stained ceiling. He had to get out and continue his mission, and he had to do so soon. If for no other reason, when he took even a moment's break, darkness descended down upon Shion. Even after only a few days, it had nearly swallowed him up twice already.

Karan was gone forever. No matter what, he would never see her again. Never. She hadn't even gotten a proper burial, or a decent goodbye. Her laughter, he caring, her dreams, her livelihood, they were all gone, ready to be forgotten. Tears welled in Shion's eyes as he pictured her as he had seen her last, cold and bloodied on her bedroom floor.

No. He couldn't get distracted and depressed by her memory. He had to remain strong and fight on.

_"You can't just give up." _Nezumi's voice struck Shion like a bolt of lightning. He shot up, staring into the white wall beside him, trying to get the voice out of his head. Nezumi was just as great a distraction as Karan, and in silent moments, every free second, when Shion felt his heart beat heavily in his chest, he became angry at Nezumi.

Nezumi, who incited this entire terrible situation. Nezumi, who left Shion to fend for himself. Nezumi, who stole a little piece of Shion's self, and left an empty space in his absence.

He would return, of course. Shion knew for certain that Nezumi would be back, and they would be together again. Maybe eventually, they would even be able to find some sort of happily ever after. It just seemed an uncomfortable while away. When all Shion had to go by was someday, it almost felt more hopeless than never.

"Mail."

A letter slipped onto the floor beside Shion and sat patiently as he eased up and stared at it for a few minutes. With the bottom side up, he couldn't see the identity of its creator. Part of him didn't want to know. He doubted it would be anything but painful. Still, leaving it there forever didn't seem practical, especially not with Shion's natural curiosity, so he slowly pulled it from the concrete beneath his feet.

It was from Rico.

This time, it was a message transcribed by his current "sibling," an older brother. Apparently, Riki still didn't care for his new home. Not that Shion would expect him to, of course. Who in the right mind would? But the new mother didn't tell good bed time stories, so he kept waking up with nightmares. Most of them, it said, were different explanations for where his mother and sister were. Shion felt something shatter inside his chest, leaving broken shards to stab at the walls of his stomach, all the way up to his brain.

_They said you don't live in your house anymore. Are you okay?_

Shion would have to ask for some paper later. He had to write a lying response telling all about how he was fine and how Rico shouldn't be worrying. Shion decided then he would just tell Rico to take things one day at a time. If he could just wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night, then everything would be all right. Soon enough, Shion would be changing the current situation, so he only had to hold on a little longer. In his list of overly optimistic assurances, he would add that everything was definitely going to be alright sometimes soon.

Shion remembered, as he folded the paper back up and set it under his mattress, that he should probably write back to Eiko as well. She had sent a letter as well, a couple days before, just to check on him. She was doing fine, and they had found a new housemate for her. She was doing well in her job, too. She just kind of missed having Shion around, or so the letter claimed. Such a sweet girl.

Shion sat on the floor, leaning against one of his cell walls, fantasizing more about escape until his meal came.

"Excuse me," he piped up, voice cracking with nervousness as he stood and leaned into the bars. When the guard had fully slid the tray with water and a sandwich into the cell, he met Shion's eyes, giving him an expectant look. "Uh, I was wondering if I could have some paper to write a couple of letters. Maybe a pen, too," he croaked out, trying to not crumble under the intimidation. This guard was a good twice Shion's weight, maybe six inches taller, and had a scowl fit for the devil.

"I'll pass your request on to Igarashi. Now eat and shut up."

Eat and shut up he did, although Shion had the sneaking suspicion he wouldn't get to see his supplies any sooner than he could think up some clever way to escape.

Many miles away, a tiny war took place, between a man and himself. As concerns and regrets wracked his brain, he grit his teeth and kept walking. Someday, he promised himself, trying desperately to call a ceasefire.

* * *

End unofficial hiatus. Yay! I'm in school, okay? The end of school, too. That takes a lot of time and effort, and tense writing isn't always the best way to unwind. Still, I'm glad I got to write this, and I took the time to get it right. I'm putting quality over punctuality and quantity, if you don't mind. Also, summer is just two short weeks away, and I should be facing a couple free hours as some classes finish sooner than others, so more will come. I promise, I promise.

What are you guys liking so far? Anything that's been bugging you? I'd love feedback, if not for the encouragement, than to make my writing better. I've already gotten a couple of suggestions, which I appreciate more than I can say, and am happily trying to tie in. So, if you're one of the ones going, "Is she ever going to do x-and-such?" then, please, let me know.

Thanks for reading!


	11. Fatherhunt

This chapter is sponsored by: Fear! Now welling inside Hanami's heart as she receives increasing numbers of scary reviews.

Jk. Thanks for the reviews minna, although sometimes I am fearful you'll track me down and force me to write ^^; _Just shut up and get on with it. _Fine, fine, sheesh. Just let me say thank you here to a wonderful reviewer who pointed out several mistakes for me to correct. I really appreciate it! I do go back and reread everything, both before and after posting, but sometimes paragraphs get lost. Thanks for your patience and cooperation!

Getting locked away gave Shion a lot of time to think and observe. It only made sense that he would notice the change in troop rotations going on outside his window. A couple weeks after he entered confinement, the timing and number of voices involved in the military drills each morning suggested that fewer soldiers and guards were on staff around the government buildings.

This could very well indicate that another large area was being invaded by Renaissance, Shion reasoned, and he saw it as a golden opportunity. People would be worried about more important things, rather than watching some low-security trouble maker. Additionally, they may even be mentally impaired enough to make a few silly mistakes. Perhaps it was a bit far-fetched, but Shion had his hopes set that his guard would forget to take the keys out as he reconfirmed the lock on his cell.

Clouds piled up by the day until overcast was so constant, Shion forgot how bright the sun could get in the middle of the day. The weather grew warmer, little by little, and humidity welled in the breezy air.

The beginning of Spring. It was startling to think that this time last year, Shion was quietly working in the park, talking to Safu through webcam.

Sure enough, paper was consistently denied to him. Letters from Eiko and Rico sat in the corner, having overwhelmed the space between his mattress and cot. They were tortuous to see, and worse to read, but they proved that both Rico and Eiko were something close to safe. That had to be enough for now.

_Is this anything like what you had in mind for me, Nezumi? _

"Prisoner!" Shion was addressed suddenly. Usually, no one ever spoke to him. Depending on the guard, they would shout that Igarashi was busy when Shion asked to see him, or they would ignore Shion entirely. He jerked his head up to meet the gaze of a bulky man in the usual royal blue soldier uniform. His expression was one of a sadistic king about to punish his peasants for doing nothing wrong at all. "Do not resist."

With practiced intimidation and skill, he disabled the lock and threw open the cell door. Shion, probably only out of desperation, took off, hoping to somehow take the guard by surprise and escape. When the guard stopped him in his tracks, he said this was reason enough to carry Shion the entire distance to Igarashi's office several blocks away.

Shion attempted to struggle, pounding forcefully against the back of his captor, kicking and thrashing as best he could, but the man was simply too much. After five or so minutes, Shion gave in to his fate. At least if he could go see Igarashi, he could discuss the matter of his release, or, at the very least, some writing supplies.

In the mean time, he took the opportunity to learn just a little more about Renaissance.

It was mid-morning, and the streets were empty. As Shion was carried, he could see the business district, a technologically advanced collection of offices and factories. He didn't know much about it, as it had never been necessary to his escape attempts from the city, but it was interesting the see in action. Overhead, a monorail ran smoothly from sleek skyscraper to sleek skyscraper. Signs and city-run billboards were digital. The streets were clean, with fresh-looking asphalt. It had to be a futuristic wonderland if there ever was one.

_Who's he trying to fool?_ Shion thought as he was lugged into an alleyway and away from the stainless steel forest. When he finally made it to Igarashi's office, Shion was bitter to say the least.

The Renaissance leader was not, and chirped, "Good morning!" with a painfully bright smile. He ordered the guards not to handcuff Shion to the comfy chair the teen had come to know fairly well by now, and, as always, asked the them to leave.

Shion scowled and crossed his arms squarely over his chest. "Well? Did you want me for something or not?"

Igarashi got a sort of childish pout to his lip. "Come now, Shion. No need to be so cruel. It doesn't suit you. With your looks, you should be more of a wonder, more anomalous in your personality. Like... Curious. Untainted."

"I'm cruel now? Who's fault do you think that is?"

"You'd be wise not to take an attitude with me, Shion. Can't we just talk?" Igarashi said, leaning forward and almost appearing mournful.

As much as he hated to admit it, Shion realized the man before him made an excellent point. It was strategically best to gain a little of his trust, and to appear unthreatening. With a small, regretfully breath, he threw on his best listening face and asked, "So, what would you can to discuss?"

"Much better! Mostly, I wanted to catch up with my favorite criminal. I've been off leading troops, and I can't help but feel like I've neglected you." He leaned back in his chair and sipped at a cup of coffee.

"Well, there were some things I have been wanting to ask you these past couple weeks," Shion said, fighting off a cringe at the sickening sweetness of the conversation. Usually, Shion wasn't exactly knowledgeable in areas like conversational shame and embarrassment, but that was just too much. Igarashi didn't seem to notice.

"Ah, right. The letters to your little friends, right? I'm afraid I can't allow that. See, you're not the best of influences at the moment. I can't have you getting help from anyone, or poisoning the mind of that poor child who writes to you. What everyone needs now is some time to settle in, without your... deviant ideals."

Shion let out a quick sigh through his nose. Why did this guy's evil have to make so much sense? He had little way to argue with that. Instead, he switched to the root of the problem.

"I understand. But, Igarashi, I don't want to be locked away from my friends in the first place."

"Mm, nor do I want you to be. But I have to do what I have to do. I really wish you would stop being so resistant, Shion. I'd love to see you become an important part of the Renaissance community."

There was a moment's pause for contemplation, and then, "Igarashi, how do you see me? As what do you think me?" _The more information I have, the better suited I am to make a point. There has to be some loophole in his reasoning..._

A thoughtful look spread across Igarashi's features. "I think... I think you remind me of a little brother. I'm tempted to say a son, but I'm not old enough to be your father. But you're someone I can watch over and try to protect, someone I'm hoping will learn from his mistakes to make good choices."

This time, Shion couldn't hide his cringe as he muttered, "Is that so?"

"Hm? Is there something wrong with that? Does it make you uncomfortable?" There was a flash of genuine human concern across Igarashi's eyes.

Shion acknowledged mentally that he had to be careful with what he said here. It almost felt like walking on eggshells, and suddenly the large office was stiflingly small.

"No! It's not like that at all!" He insisted, waving his hands for emphasis.

He barely got the words out before Igarashi snapped, "Then what is it?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it, Igarashi."

Unconvinced, Igarashi rose and began to ambled about his office, suddenly dead serious. "I don't like it when you hold things from me, Shion. I would think you would know this by now."

After a long, tense moment of watching Igarashi stare out his window, Shion prayed his lying had improved in recent weeks and spit out the first thing that came to mind: "It's not you, it's just a touchy subject since I never really knew my father."

It was completely true, of course, that Shion's father and Karan divorced when he was very young, too young to remember the man. But that was definitely not something to say to someone with as much territory and power hungry as Igarashi Kiseki, he realized, because the local tyrant could and did turn around from his dramatic gaze into the distance and say, "Then I shall find him for you!"

The air hung thick in the lavish office as Shion struggled and failed to keep the upper hand in the conversation. He noticed uncomfortably that this whole back and forth had been as dominated by Igarashi as the men outside the oak door. There was nothing he could do now by ride it out and hope for the best.

"Huh?" was Shion's intelligent response.

"I lead a vast population, Shion, and have a lot of documentation in my possession. I will find your long lost father, and gain that last bit of your trust that it's killing me not to have."

Shion didn't actually care to find his father at the moment. If anyone, he wanted to locate Nezumi. Unfortunately, being recognized by Igarashi would put Nezumi in significant danger, so asking for the effort to be dedicated to him would be out of the question. Shion feared the distraction from his plans that would be created if his father was found, but there was little to do about that now.

Trying his hardest to seem enthused, Shion finished out the rest of the conversation as quickly as possible, shook hands with the ever-friendly ruler of the land, and was escorted back to his cell.

The troops outside were back to their normal numbers and routine by that afternoon. Shion couldn't help but wonder what city Renaissance had overtaken as he laid sprawled atop his bed. He only hoped that Nezumi hadn't been captured as well.

_I probably have no reason worry about him. He's more than capable of taking care of himself._ Still, losing Nezumi was Shion's greatest fear. How could he not worry? To Shion's knowledge, Nezumi had never dealt with Renaissance. He didn't know it well like he had known No. 6. He hadn't grown up with it the same way. What if they took him by surprise, or stunned him? There was still the matter of his war crimes against No. 6, and thugs wanting vigilante justice. Even without Igarashi's conquering, Nezumi could find himself with quite a few enemies, maybe more than he could handle.

Shion was still angry with Nezumi, of course. But once in a while the thought passed him mind that he couldn't tell a dead man how hurt he was over the abandonment.

Shion buried his face in his hands, breathing in the musky smell of his cell. His thoughts eventually wandered to this father of his. Shion hadn't really thought much of him as a child. Often, it was easy enough to believe the man didn't really exist. As Shion had grown up always without a father, but with a strong mother, he had never really noticed the lack.

If Igarashi found this man, Shion wasn't convinced he even wanted to see him. The situation wasn't helped by Karan's recent death. Shion's heart was still all too fragile.

Of course, no matter what Shion had to think about Nezumi and his father, there was nothing for him to do but lie back against the wall and await the morning.

One morning blurred into many, with no change in activity except for the occasionally meeting with Igarashi. His opening answer everytime: "We have nothing yet."

These meetings rarely went anywhere good. Shion was willing to concede that Igarashi was an alright person, although he was as airheaded as he was well-intentioned. He just didn't see the bigger picture. It was as though he had no imagination, no grasp on beliefs other than his own. As though all he knew was his own tiny, privileged life, but he was still ignorant enough to try to meddle with others. Rarely was Shion comfortable enough to enjoy the company.

It wasn't long before the number of troops in the morning started to gradually lessen again before Shion's very ears once again.

Far off, in the middle of nowhere, a man thought about his past and put one foot in front of the other.


	12. Revolution

Spring brought storms, mostly of rain. Shion quickly became used to the pattering of rain on his cell walls and ceiling, and knew where to not step is he didn't want to slip and die on that water which had splashed in through the window. What he had a hard time ignoring was the sound of feet.

Storms of feet would roar up without pattern somewhere close by. Shouting, too, once in a while. And gunshots. Mostly, though, it was the hollow sound of footfalls that came in torrents.

Shion was one smart kid. He knew what was coming. He just refused to believe it. the very thought terrified him. So, what else could he do but reject the idea entirely until it came? And come it did, like a blow to the face.

Revolution.

He woke up in the middle of the night immense crashing. It was its own experience, the sound, the shaking, the crumbling of the ceiling. Out of his window, Shion could see massive clouds of smoke swirling in the air. Occasionally, fire licked high enough that he could see topmost points of the flames, even from the odd angle. Panic set in before reason, and it took it until a second explosion knocked him off his feet that Shion thought to protect himself.

As more debris rained down from inside the fell, Shion flung himself under his cot and hung on. Red emergency lights and sirens activated, creating an eerie company, so he closed his eyes and tried to block them out. His heart pounded painfully into the floor below him, and-

-And suddenly, Shion was four years old again. He was under his bed in No. 6, hiding from a thunderstorm he hadn't yet come to adore. And he was seven years old, hiding from a fire he had started with his chemistry set as alarms whistled and the automatic sprinklers turned on. And two years old, when strange men and woman in the house were excitedly talking to Mommy. And nine years old, angry at Safu for asking to marry him. And twelve years old, just looking for some peace and quiet to think because life was so complicated and the walls were closing in and if he didn't control himself, he would start screaming and never be able to stop and-

And sixteen. Hiding from bombs.

Shion was helpless.

He was helpless to fight and helpless to speak, because there was no one to speak to, no one to save him this time.

Not Karan, not technology, not Safu, not Nezumi.

No one.

Smoke and dust stung his eyes when he tried to open them. When he breathed too deeply, they gagged him and burned his lungs. All he could do was cough furiously and repetitively until he smashed his head on the bottom of the furniture and cried out in pain.

Staying close to the ground was not working. This was not No. 6. The same precautions and rules didn't apply. He couldn't survive by laying down and taking it.

Projectiles continued to bombard the city, seeming to grow nearer and nearer with each passing moment as Shion struggled to crawl on quivering concrete. A brick fell from the wall somewhere behind him.

The cell was still locked, but the bars were loosened, and Shion had enough adrenaline in him to bend a few out of place enough for him to squeeze through. It was difficult, and his breathing was short and it was getting harder to see as smoke overpowered the clarity of oxygen and nitrogen, but it was do or die, and Shion didn't see die as much of an option. He still had too much to live for.

He stumbled again one he was out, but it didn't matter. He was free. His feet picked up and he leaned on walls and ran, as far and as fast as he could through the maze of corridors, struggling to recollect the quickest way out. Shion finally remembered the location of a nearby door, one that fled into the courtyard, and was rounding last corner before it when a wall exploded next to him with a staggering impact. He was thrown onto his back, and suddenly, for the first time, there were people around. They nearly trampled him. Floods of night workers with shrill screams of fear made thinking only more difficult.

The time between explosions grew shorter and shorter as Shion struggled to his feet, quickly processing the wreckage now blocked his exit. There were building studs and metal plates. Impassible.

On instinct, Shion's eyes darted around as he heaved a cough and fell against a wall for support. With this many studs dislodged, the building would fall at any moment. Outside, Shion saw crowds of people, running, panicking, screaming.

Outside?

A window.

Without another second's thought, Shion grit his teeth and launched himself though the glass. Tiny shards pricked against his right arm and the side of his face, but the pain was numbed by shock. Landing wasn't so merciful, as he crashed onto burning-hot pavement. Distantly, Shion heard a sharp crack, distinct from the low roar of missiles and terror.

With blurred vision, he saw people jumping over him, sometimes knocking into him, as other men and women sprung from the window. Shion rolled out from underfoot and tried to pick himself up, but his right arm gave out instantly. He gasped in agony, terror raining down upon him like the physical debris. He wasn't sure trying to move again wouldn't do more damage, and taking the risk didn't sound appealing.

However, he was still likely to die if he remained here, four feet from a collapsing building. With no option Shion rose, still trembling and choking on ash, and hobbled forward as quickly as he could manage.

Throbbing. As he proceeded forward to somewhere, anywhere, because nowhere was safe, he had enough of a free second for throbbing to register in mind, to become the only thing. His arm was throbbing horribly, so much that it hurt behind his eyes. He knew it was bad if he could perceive it through the adrenaline and other neurological pain suppressants, but he didn't understand just the severity of the beaten he had taken until he clutched his right arm with his left.

It was hot. Even in the firestorm, he could feel the heat of it. And very, very wet. Screaming silently, he seized at the sensation of blood pouring onto his fingers. That was what contracted his fingers enough to feel it: bone.

Tears leaked from Shion's eyes, and suddenly the surreal feeling in the air came crashing down upon him. Throat constricting, he felt the world around him become more vivid, more real. This was all happening in that moment to Shion. Nothing could ever undo these events from history. The memory would haunt him for the rest of his life, no doubt.

He's pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the building collapsing several meters behind him.

Shion continued to drag himself forward, desperate. He had to keep going, right? There was nothing else to do but persist.

"Shion!"

He turned around at the sound of his name, rough and labored. Meters behind him, someone was running in his direction. They're too difficult to see with the smoke in the air in the haze in ruby eyes, but they continued to bound forward.

Eiko.

The image became clearer, and the voice matched up. Eiko was running after Shion. He stopped for a moment, his vision cleared, and shiver ran down his burning spine at what he saw.

"Eiko, watch out!"

And then it happened, and Shion's world went black.

In a distant city, growing farther away by the hour, a man swiped scraps of food and lit a tiny fire in an alleyway. He smiled as he thought of dancing. These memories gave him hope. It was hard to make this venture alone, but a man has to do what a man has to do. The sooner he accomplished his mission and started back, the sooner he could return to the one he loved.

A squeak sounded beside him. A tiny robot stood in the flow of the fire, beady eyes reflecting the endless dark sky.

Nezumi's voice was gruff. He didn't have many conversations anymore. No one worth talking to. "Have you found anything?"

A map merchant. Perfect. Nearby, too, so Nezumi could be on an exact course by tomorrow.

After a quick meal and about an hour of silent reminisce, Nezumi nodded off to sleep. His world, too, went black.

* * *

Short chapter, short chapter. But the next one's almost done. Now, I'm going to break down and ask for it: any feedback you have to offer is immensely appreciated, including criticism. I can't get better if I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I especially need to know if the violence in this and the following chapter is getting offensive. Let me know if I should knock up the rating. A good artist shall not become too acquainted with pride, or their art will suffer, I've learned. So, as much as I hate and cringe to ask, please review?

Oh, and an extra special thanks to my brilliant new beta! _'Bout time you got one._ Yeah, I know, I've had competence issues. But now I don't have to worry about that, and I'm extremely grateful! 3 Thank you so much, hun, for helping to make this all possible!

Have a nice day, minna!


	13. Bitter Beginnings

In Shion's dreams, the moment was on loop. Over and over, it repeated: Eiko, bathed in smoke in ash. Running fast but not fast enough. Getting hit by a falling, flaming beam that seemed to appear out of heavy, toxic air. Bleeding out, skull smashed to bits, into the sweltering pavement.

Running, hit, dead. Running, hit, dead. Running hit dead. Running hit dead, running hit dead runninghitdead runninghitdeadrunninghitdeadrunninghitdead-

Shion awoke with a start, sweat pouting down every inch of his body. He must have passed out in the chaos. His very first thought was amazement that he was still breathing, with a brain that functioned well enough to establish consciousness.

His second thought was a series of questions. Where, when, how, and why he was. Everything was choppy, discombobulated , like the sides of his brain weren't connecting just right.

His eyes wouldn't focus, and Shion couldn't hear past the blood in his ears. Everything, everything was numb.

Shion pinched his eyes shut, but the darkness wasn't innocent. All he could see in his mind's eye was that dream, that memory, over and over and over. He opened his eyes again, knowing any sight was more . Now, a familiar face loomed over him. Shion tried to speak his name, but failed, coughing up blood instead.

Concern overwhelmed Igarashi's expression. "Shion, relax. Don't move too quickly. You're safe, ar least for now."

Safe. How on earth did he come to be safe? Last thing he remembered, he was-

His arm. Shion jerked his head forward, straining to see his neck to catch a glimpse of his arm. All he managed to see was vibrant red running the entire length of his right arm, curling onto the rest of his shirt. His head fell back with a thud, and suddenly he was gasping for breath.

"_Shion! _I just told you, hold still. You're just going to make things worse," Igarashi hissed, holding his hands a couple centimeters above Shion's chest, as if trying to hold him down without touching him. "If you just calm down and lie still, I'll tell everything I know about what's happened. Sound good?"

The stress in Igarashi's voice didn't help to sooth Shion. He had to know, quickly, or things wouldn't end well. Voice still unusable, he sent Igarashi a look to begin.

"Thank you. First of all, I've done all I can to help you medically. I've made a wrap on your arm out of my jacket, and I cleaned out as many of your wounds as I could afford." For the first time, Shion noticed how damaged Igarashi's face appeared, and how dirty. He also had a couple of burns tinging his chin like shadow, and sinking down to below the neckline of his tattered button-up shirt. It seemed everyone was pretty scraped up from the attack, not surprisingly.

"You're welcome, by the way. Hold your applause, though, as there will be much more to thank me for by the time I've finished the story." Shion raised his eyebrows expectantly, so Igarashi went on, now from the beginning.

"My beautiful Renaissance was bombed, as I'm sure you know. No. 1's army, and their conviction, is far greater than anyone would have anticipated. Much of the city has been destroyed, and I, sadly, now lack most of the power I knew weeks ago. This was all five days ago. You've been in and out of consciousness a lot, and your arm has been doing some interesting things. I don't know, they won't give us access to a doctor. I hope you now appreciate just how hospitably I treated you, now that it's in perspective." There was still a fading tone of arrogant authority in his voice, even as he spoke of his metaphorical fall from grace.

"You and I were captured, and now share this tiny cell. It's in one of the last remaining buildings, but it's sturdy enough. And there's an armed guard outside. From what I've been hearing, all other living men have been forced into the military, with the women into servitude. It's despicable, really. I mean, why even run a society like that? How do they even live with themselves? If you ask me, my society was infinitely better. I brought wonderful liberties into the lives of thousands of people. Freedom. Education. Occupation."

Shion cut him off, rasping out, "What about the children?" He still wanted to know about Rico. It seemed more and more hopeless that he would be able to take care of the boy as he had intended to, but he had to try.

Igarashi just shook his head, his gaze distant. A shiver wracked Shion's entire being. He tried his best to salivate, as his throat suddenly felt uncomfortably dry and difficult. Words were challenging to form, but he got out,"Why us?"

"Well, I would think it obvious. I'm the recently overthrown leader. You were a prisoner under me, and your track record leaves much to be desired. I mean, with sympathy to criminals, expulsion from a city, and war crimes, you could be considered a terrorist. An evil genius, even. To try to force you to become a soldier would be tactically unsound, to put it mildly."

Evil genius? Shion had never thought of it that way... No, no, he was just a smart teenager who made some atypical decisions for the good of the world. Evil geniuses were cackling scientists who spend too much time in their laboratories. Shion may have had the scars and shock of white hair, but he wasn't Frankenstein.

"Alive... Why?"

Igarashi didn't answer. Of course, how was he to know the reasoning of maniacal dictators? The more he spoke, the more Shion was coming around the the idea that the man before him never was one. He was just a well-intentioned guy, going about things in a way that lacked a balanced perspective. Not unlike a certain teenager once dreaming of a third option.

Shion never thought such things would occur to him. He certainly didn't expect the day to come when bloodied lips would curl and he would thank Igarashi, either, but so he did. The former leader waved it off, saying it was just as a leader should do, but he looked rather pleased with himself at getting the gratitude. "Now, take things slow. Don't get up too hastily. I don't particularly want a corpse for a cellmate."

Shion tried to ease himself off the group, grinding his teeth against the pain which consumed his arm. It was devastating, and when he held it wrong, his vision was consumed with hot, burning white. Igarashi kneeled next to him, propping him against the nearest wall. "Oh," the former leader said suddenly, though his demeanor was melancholic. "I almost forgot. I found the documentation on your father just before the attack. Would you like to hear it?"

Shion stared down at the stone floor, leaning heavily against it. This again. Conflict edged into his mind. He had never particularly missed his father. It had never mattered to him. But how could he say no, and live on knowing he had the chance to find out and didn't take it? That documentation had to be ash by now. If he ever grew curious in later years, he would have no way to find out. He decided he had enough on his mind without the curiosity of it, and nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"He was apprehended by the officials of No. 6 a couple of weeks after you were born. Apparently, he asked a few too many questions for comfort, and was taken into custody. He died there several weeks later of an illness. I'm sorry, Shion."

Apprehended? "No, no, no." Shion sputtered out, still struggling to speak past the coppery blood in his throat. He couldn't have been apprehended, at least not in that time frame. He and Karan took longer than that to break up. "Igarashi, are you-are you sure it was weeks?"

"Kiseki, please," Igarashi insisted with a friendly hint to his voice, ignoring Shion's urgency.

"Fine, Kiseki. Are you sure about that timing?"

"Yes. September 22, exactly 15 days after your birthday."

It wasn't possible. It just didn't add up. Karan had always said they had parted ways far more than 15 days after his birth. But then, she had also told Shion that they broke up, not that this man had been abducted. She couldn't have lied. She just, she couldn't have…

Kiseki broke off Shion's train of thought to say, "Goodness, I'm sorry, Shion. Maybe I shouldn't have told you. I know grief is hard, and you have enough to deal with already, now don't you? Tell me if there's any way I can help, alright?"

Shion only nodded, not wanting to bother to explain it all, at least in this moment. If he did, he would have to admit that he wasn't grieving for the loss of his father at all, but rather for the understanding he had held of his mother. On top of everything, Karan wasn't even alive for Shion to confront and question and scream at. Suddenly, even more than fix his arm or escape of find Nezumi, that was all he wanted to do.

How, how had this once peaceful life become so damaged? As Kiseki wandered off to the far corner of their shared cage, a slow, painful montage began in Shion's mind.

Safu died. Nezumi left. He was responsible for hundreds of deaths, including that of his mother. He was taken captive by Kiseki, and forced into his society, and then into captivity. Rico was either dead or being forced into who knows what kind of hellish excuse for a childhood. Sweet Eiko died as another city collapsed in upon itself. Everything, everything becomes ruined so very quickly. It all just slips away before Shion has time to think or recover even physically.

His entire view of life was tarnished.

_Once you have someone to protect, you've already lost. _Was that it? Was that the problem? Did Shion have to stop trusting people, trying to help people, trying to help? No, no, the world just can't be that bad a place. But then Shion closed his eyes, and in the emptiness, he saw the montage again and again, a painful playback of misery, and he wondered why it had taken him this long to figure that out.

Shion sat there, broken, for hours, suffering. He couldn't sleep, couldn't talk, couldn't breathe. The slightest wrong move of his bad arm sent him reeling. All he could do was rummage through his memories, his experiences, everything he's ever known, and try to prove to himself that life was more than hurt. The closest he came, his only memory of true happiness, great enough to trump troubling times such as these, was of him and Nezumi in their tiny West Block home, not so long before.

Nezumi. Where was he now? Why wasn't he with Shion? Why? How could he just leave like that? How could he not want to protect Shion? Shion always thought Nezumi cared for him more than that. They were each other's someone to protect, someone to live for, someone to love, right? Shion clenched his fist as the questions screamed violently in his head. How could Nezumi betray his like this? How could he abandon him like this? At the very least, why wasn't he here, dying beside Shion, or on the other side of the door, trying to free him?

Wasn't that what he was supposed to do? Face the difficult times beside Shion, to make them less difficult? Isn't that what love is for?

As Shion grew bitter, the words more sour, more heated, he couldn't help but get frustrated with himself as well, for not seeing this coming. He had just trusted Nezumi—trusted _Nezumi, _the rogue, the thief, the liar, the criminal—way, way too much.

Deep down, it only made Shion's intense desire to see Nezumi again grow. As far as he knew, Nezumi was still alive. Unlike with Karan, Shion could find Nezumi. He could give him a piece of his mind. He could question the son of a bitch, and he could make him suffer, with the power they both knew only Shion had over him.

Reasonably, Shion knew that probably wouldn't happen. He was an airhead from the former No. 6. He would see Nezumi and melt in those eyes, just like always. The moment he could see Nezumi, feel Nezumi again the way he once could, he have no choice but to believe in happy endings. After all, he would be getting one.

For now, though, as Shion laid bloodied and half alive in a prison cell in a dictatorship, he had no better time than ignoring reason, and planning out all the best ways to start out a jaded, spiteful reunion monologue.

_Nezumi, where are you? _

In fact, in a very distant place, Nezumi was wondering the same thing.

* * *

First things first: I. HAVE. 50. FOLLOWERS. FOR. THIS. STORY. ~/~ ? I am just rendered speechless from this. I just, I can't. I am so honored, you all have no idea. *headdesks repeatedly* I cannot believe enough people can put up with this story, let alone like it enough to follow. I am very, very grateful to you all. ~A~ -happy tears

Thank you all for the wonderful feedback! It's been very helpful to me, and I hope this satisfies. Still, any other comments, critiques, questions, or ideas you have would be much appreciated. Hell, I have a great deal of the plot mapped out in my mind, so if you ask the right questions, you may get a hints or a sneak peak! If there's anything at all I can do for you, please let me know. Thank you!

Now, future updates won't be _quite_ this close together, but summer has started, I am inspired, and this is a priority. So, updates will be pretty common, if not steady. Exciting, ne? I hope you're enjoying thus far. Have a wonderful day, minna~!

Hugs, Hanami.


	14. Prisoners Together

"So, how's the arm?" Kiseki asked several hours later, after he had taken a nap and left Shion alone with his thoughts and bitterness.

"Huh?" He asked smartly, cringing at his own jump.

"The limb barely clinging to your body?"

"Oh. Well, it's hanging in there."

"Can you move it?" Kiseki took a knee beside Shion, on his good side, and stared in concern.

"I don't think so," Shion hissed. He tried then, but stopped when he tasted blood on the lip he was obliterating.

"Okay, okay. Don't strain yourself. You took quite a tumble, it might not be good for a while," Kiseki said, with an interesting decrescendo, like he as growing nervous. From the glint in the eyes, there was something he wasn't saying.

"What is it, Iga-Kiseki? What aren't you telling me? I've been through a lot. I can take it," Shion said grimly, running his functional hand through his ebony hair.

With an impressive sigh, Kiseki avoided eyes contact as he said, "Shion, I'm no doctor, but I'm concerned that it won't ever be good again. At least, not without a surgeon."

Shion said nothing. He had already figured as much, feared as much. He just didn't want to accept it. He had been through too much. Too many of the people he loved were gone, and many because of him. He didn't want to start eroding away. Not yet.

He had to get out, one way or another, and he couldn't do it with one arm. He just had to get out. This world was an ugly place, a terrible place, and he had to fight against it, before it swallowed him alive like it had so many others. No longer did he look forward to a fairy tale ending. He would never get it, not with the memories that were already haunting him. He couldn't live ignorantly, idealistically, after all he'd seen. His mother's skull, smashed on her bedroom carpet. Eiko's light soul, pounded out of her bones. And the sounds. The screams, the cries, would never leave his ears.

He couldn't just lay down, cradle his arm, and become another casualty. He wouldn't.

"Okay," Shion said solemnly, trying to smooth out all the details within his mind. He would find a way to regain functionality in his arm. Somehow, some way. That was all there was to it. Maybe it would take more than a day, maybe more than a week, but eventually, he would prevail.

A week passed. Two weeks. Shion could stand. Shion could walk. Shion could drop his bad arm, hobble over to where the food was thrown onto the pavement of his cell, pick up some crackers, drag himself back to his spot against the wall, and use his arm to pull his bad one onto his arm as he ate. Kiseki offered, repeatedly, to simply bring the food scraps to Shion, but he would have no part of it. He had little dignity left, but he wouldn't be coddled.

From where Shion sat, for hours on end, he could always see Kiseki. He always tried to keep a strong front, and his confident, authoritative air never dissolved. He seemed just as content upon escape as Shion. He was always working, most every moment he spent awake. He would chisel away at a tiny hole on the far wall, hoping to eventually dig out. There was no longer a guard standing watch, so he would scrape away at the metal bars forming a grate to imprison them. He would try to dislodge the thick pipes that hung high overhead, in hopes of changing anything at all about their desperate situation. There was little he could ever accomplish as the long days passed, but he tried.  
And Kiseki spoke. Shion had grown quiet, no longer the questioning, excitable companion he once was for Nezumi. But Kiseki would ask questions, tell stories from his past, talk about life, discuss escape plans, fantasize, and speak any last stray thoughts that happened into his mind. Shion wondered if he used to be the same way with his guards, but didn't typically dislike the distraction. When left to his own thoughts, Shion got a bit… hateful, one could say, or vicious. But he could focus on Kiseki, on his ramblings and passing sentiments. Even if he didn't speak, he could think his responses, and it gave him something to do.

He got to know Kiseki this way. The way, once upon a time, he had no mother, but a father, and a set of younger twin siblings who worshipped him. How he had a great education, top of his class, and ideas and hopes and dreams, and all the charisma he needed to fulfill them. The way he was a man with everything, and then watched as t slowly crumbled down around him.

"The economy took a bit of a downturn, and my father got sick. I couldn't find a very good job, so I didn't come up with the money to save him. I got a job a couple weeks later, but it was only enough to put food on the table. When the little ones got sick the following year, there was nothing I could do. No aunts or uncles, no family friends, and no charities had enough to give. I was a little younger than you when all this happened. Ever since then, I've been trying to find a way for everyone to have a family. A healthy, happy family they don't have to say goodbye to."

Shion learned that Kiseki was, in fact, a good person. A little naïve, maybe, in the workings of the world and the feelings of others. But all in all, he was a fine man. After Kiseki said that, he smiled softly down into his lap, a faraway look in his eyes. "I'm sorry," Shion said, opening his lips for the first time in hours. Kiseki nodded faintly, and seemed a lighter for the rest of the evening.

The following morning, Shion awoke to gaze up at the gray concrete ceiling. Pipes hung down here and there, dipping down low enough that Shion could grasp a couple them when he stood. With a determined breath, he rose, letting his bad arm fall numbly to his side. He was always a bit afraid to look under the wrappings, and after the bleeding had stopped weeks before, he chose to avoid doing so. Really, he avoided doing anything with his bad arm. Lifting it, even, was an occasion all its own, and often sent him reeling. His other arm, his left arm, had become his number one tool.

Slowly, cautiously, he raise his left arm up and gripped the pipe. Going with the impulse, he clung on, knuckles going an ebony that strongly resembled his hair, and tried to pick himself up. His toes entered the air for one triumphant moment. Just a smile was spreading across his face, however, his fingers slipped, and all at once he was on the ground again, hissing in pain.

Kiseki apparently awoke at the commotion, and strode to stand over Shion, a hand out to help him up. Shion took it, still somewhat begrudgingly, and looked up in disgust.

"Good morning. And what sort of trouble are we causing today?"

"I'm sick of being helpless. My body is deteriorating, and I want to do something about it."

"Oh, yeah. I thought this might happen. But one-armed pull ups aren't exactly easy."

"Yeah, I know. It was just a dumb impulsive move." Shion said, slumping back against a wall in defeat.

Kiseki sighed in something close to pity, or maybe sympathy, and Shion scowled at him.

"Do you want to have another look at your arm?"

"No."

"Shion-"

"Kiseki, it's depressing."

"What's depressing is your attitude. Come on, let's try something else… Push-ups."

Shion hummed in question, trying to cross his arms, and biting his lip harshly when he failed. After so long of not making progress with an escape, he had to make progress in something, or he might just go insane. Push-ups, though, sounded like an odd place to start.

"Yeah, push-ups. You can use one arm. You know, grow up the muscles a little at a time."

Hesitantly, Shion dropped back to the ground, set his bad arm on his back, and… failed to do a push-up.

"You'll get there, Shion. Don't worry too much." With one last sharp glare, Shion got back on his feet and set himself down in his usual spot in one corner.

"Say, now can we look at the arm?"

"Kiseki…" He groaned, but the more it was spoken about, the more his curiosity bugged him. He had to face the truth eventually. As he nodded, Kiseki walked over and took him by the hand, gently unwrapping the bloodied layers of fabric. As Shion bit his lip in discomfort, the last layer slipped to the cold gray floor, and the injury was revealed.

It was no longer swollen, and Shion's immune and muscular systems were clearly working full force in healing it, but it wasn't pretty. Kiseki couldn't help but scoot away from the red and purple spectacle, swallowing deeply. Shion looked away harshly, anger rekindled.

"It will heal."

"Kise-"

"It will heal, Shion. The human body is an amazing thing. Someday, you might be doing two-armed push-ups and pull ups."

After that, Kiseki left Shion as alone as he could for several hours, continuing his escape efforts from where they left off the previous evening.

Shion sulked, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with himself now that he was so crippled.

"Igarashi Kiseki!" A voice called, several weeks later. It reverberated off the cement walls of the cell, where the man in question was covering up his escape-hole-in-progress, and Shion was reaching a new record of 14 straight push-ups with one arm. He sat back as Kiseki scrambled up the bars where the cell let out. There, waiting for him, was a large wall of a man with a gruff beard and a scowl that could scar.

"You're being released and assigned to guard duty! Get the hell out and get to your training!" He roared, throwing open the metal bar gateway and yanking Kiseki out by the collar of his shirt.

All he could do was stutter. As the giant man carried him off, slamming the door closed behind him.

"Kiseki," Shion shouted, rushing to where his latest companion had just disappeared. No response came, and Shion fell to his knees, suddenly glad he hadn't become more attached.

Nezumi coughed and stuttered, trying to figure out which blow had caused the blood to fall from his lips. Leaning heavily against a brick wall, he hid in an alleyway. He had to recover quickly. Ever since he took that wrong turn, he'd had a lot of ground to make up. He cursed how long this was taking. It had been months since he had last seen Shion.

Nezumi shut his eyes, trying desperately to conjure up a picture of Shion in his mind. When he finally did so, after a few long seconds that felt like stakes to his heart, a warm grin came to his lips.

* * *

Thank you for the delightful reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

I, too, am eagerly awaiting Nezumi and Shion's reunion... Why did I plan so freakin' much... I'm looking into doing a little manipulation of the pacing so that it will come a little sooner and we can all breathe a little easier. ^o^ Don't worry, there is plenty to be said and plenty to be done when Nezumi takes his first full steps into the production, instead of standing behind the curtain and taunting us all! He won't jump in in the last chapter or anything. And this is such a major commitment (9 months now... god I'm slow), there's no way I'll leave before it's done. It's of like a child that I'm raising but also kind of can't wait to kick out of the house.

You're reviews are quite lovely, thank you very much! For further comments, concerns, critiques, or questions, please don't hesitate to leave a review~! Have a nice day, minna!

EDIT: Hey, everyone. Sorry, but I'm going on a TEMPORARY hiatus. I WILL return. I promise you that. Just, you know, life happens. I've had some major emotional stuff, and the person most important to me has had major emotional stuff, and it's just kind of a roller coaster of a summer, and I just can't write things this tough for a couple weeks. I'll probably writing some FREE! crap, though, because it's easy and I can do it in like 45 minutes and it doesn't hurt my heart. So, if you follow me, you'll have to deal with that. Sorry :/ Until the next time, best wishes.


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